Witness
by Mare43
Summary: Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": The head of the group home Ryan stayed at is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against him, facing the man who abused him.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:**** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him. **

**This story is AU and takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor.**

** I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)**

Chapter One

Ryan stares down at the black, five-sided figure. A pentagon. His vision begins to blur as the blackness draws him in. He feels it closing in on him, swallowing him up. The darkness... the eerie sense that something bad is going to happen. He blinks a few times and tries to shrug off the foreboding feeling. Then he hears a whistle blow, jarring him out of his trance. His vision begins to come back into focus. He sees black and white pentagons. A soccer ball.

_What was the drill..._

Ryan looks around at his teammates. They're all looking at him with their hands planted firmly on their hips, waiting for him to start. Ryan begins to dribble the ball, kicking it back and forth between his feet. He knows it's practice but he's forgotten if he should move to his left or pass the ball.

_Something to the left... but what was the drill?_

Ryan makes a quick decision and moves to his left. He's immediately greeted with a body slam as Luke Ward runs full force into him, sending both boys plummeting to the ground.

Then he hears the whistle blow... again.

"Atwood! Get over here! Right now!" the coach hollers angrily. "The rest of you take five. Get a drink. Do something! But don't go far."

"You okay, Ryan?" Luke asks, extending his hand to help his friend up off the ground.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ryan replies, brushing the dirt and grass off his shorts as he accepts the assistance. He's a little shaken but knows he's not injured. A couple of bruises will appear on his rib cage by morning. Nothing he can't handle.

"You were supposed to pass the ball to me," Luke says, concerned by his friend's unexpected spaciness. "You sure you're alright?"

"Yeah," Ryan repeats with a small smile. "I'll live."

"Atwood! Over here... now!"

"You sure 'bout that?" Luke asks, raising his eyebrows as he watches his friend make his way over to the coach. Luke knows the coach will let Ryan live. At least he hopes so...

Ryan jogs gingerly over to his coach, John Plitzuweit, or Coach Plitz to the players. Ryan likes his coach. He's tough but fair and doesn't put up with anyone's bullshit. He's honest and hardworking. Coaching soccer after school and on weekends is volunteer work. His primary function at the school is teaching chemistry to teenagers. It's definitely a character building experience... for the teacher.

"Coach Plitz, I'm really sorry," Ryan says, speaking first before enduring a well-earned tongue lashing. "I don't know what happened. I forgot..."

"It's very clear you forgot the drill," the coach interrupts. "But I understand."

Ryan looks at his coach, slightly confused.

John Plitzuweit places his arm around his young player's shoulders and coaxes the boy to walk with him.

"I know the trial started today," the coach acknowledges.

Ryan hangs his head low and sighs. He knows everyone in the school is aware of the trial. How he wishes it was over...

"And I also know that you're scheduled to appear in court tomorrow..."

"Coach... I..."

"Ryan... stop," John Plitzuweit says, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders. He turns Ryan to face him and looks the boy straight in his eyes.

"I'm excusing you from practice for the rest of the week."

Ryan looks up at his coach, a man in his mid-forties standing just a shy under six feet. He notes warm hazel eyes and a face that's tired but earnest, graced with medium brown hair speckled with a bit of gray that's already showing signs of male pattern baldness.

"But coach..."

"You are clearly distracted..."

Ryan lowers his head and gazes down at his dirt-covered, grass-stained soccer shoes.

"And I don't blame you," the coach continues. "You're under a lot of stress right now. But being distracted... not concentrating... it can be dangerous. Someone can get hurt and it's my responsibility to keep my players safe." John looks directly at Ryan and adds, "And that includes you."

"Coach Plitz... I am really sorry..."

"Go home, Ryan," the coach instructs in a caring tone of voice. "Be with your family and get some rest. When the trial is over, come back to practice. I want you to be one-hundred percent for the opening game, both physically and mentally. I will not compromise your safety or anyone else's. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, coach," Ryan says in defeat. But he knows the man is right. He respects that.

Ryan grabs his gym bag off the bench and starts walking back to the school, looking forward to a hot shower to clear his mind.

"Hey, Ryan! Wait up!"

Ryan immediately stops and turns, watching his friend quickly jog up to him.

"What did Coach Plitz say?" Luke asks, wanting to know where his friend is going.

"I've been sidelined," Ryan replies. "Coach wants me to take the week off from practice." Ryan hesitates a moment, then adds, "You know, until the trial is over."

Luke looks down at the ground then back up towards his friend. "I'm sorry, Ryan... I know this... the trial... well... I know it's been hard on you," Luke says, "But the coach is right. You should take this week off."

Ryan offers a heartfelt smile, appreciating his friend's understanding.

Over the course of the summer, Ryan and Luke forged a friendship neither one of them ever expected. Ryan watched Luke change. And it was a good change. He was no longer the jerk he first met. Luke spent his summer doing community service; picking up garbage along the beaches and highways. When he wasn't sporting a bright orange vest and stabbing at litter with his two-pronged stake, he was working at his dad's car dealership.

Ryan appreciated the friendship. Besides, he and Luke shared some common interests; most notably their love of sports. Whereas Seth preferred to play sports via the Playstation, Luke preferred actually playing and competing. Ryan was happy to do both, though. After all, that's what friends do.

"It's almost a quarter after four," Luke states. "You're probably going to miss the late bus. I know Kirsten usually picks you up from practice, but I can give you a lift home if you want to wait for me."

"Sure, I can wait," Ryan replies, accepting the offer.

"Great! My truck's parked on the north end of the parking lot," Luke says. "I'll probably be another thirty or forty minutes."

"No problem. I've got some homework I can start on. I appreciate the lift," Ryan says as he takes his cell phone out of his bag and texts Kirsten, letting her know Luke will be driving him home.

Ryan walks back to the school and makes his way to the boy's locker room. Normally, the locker room is a bustling cacophony full of rowdy teenagers joking around and letting off steam amid the constant din of locker doors being slammed shut. But at this time of day, almost everyone has gone home. The locker room is eerily quiet.

Again, Ryan shrugs off a foreboding feeling. He's tired. His nerves are frazzled.

_It's nothing..._

Ryan plops his gym bag down on the floor, opens the combination lock to his locker then tosses the opened lock into his gym bag. He doesn't feel the need to lock his stuff back up. There's no one around to steal anything.

Ryan slowly begins peeling off his sweaty clothes. A shower will feel good. He drapes a thin dingy, white towel around his waist and makes his way down a short dark corridor leading to the showers. He steps into a stall surrounded by white, mildew-stained tile, turns on the faucet and lets the refreshing water cascade over his head and shoulders and down his back. He dispenses some liquid soap into his hands and washes his face and body, then turns off the water.

Ryan grabs his towel off the hook and begins drying off. He immediately stops when he hears a sound... footsteps... a locker door opening and closing... the echo of more footsteps...

_Maybe Luke got out of practice early..._

Ryan wraps the towel around his waist and makes his way back down the dark corridor to the main dressing area. He looks around expecting to see someone, but no one is around. The locker room is empty and again, eerily quiet.

Ryan shrugs his shoulders.

_I was probably just hearing things..._

Ryan gets dressed and packs up his gym bag. Then he retrieves his book bag from his locker and starts making his way down the hallway to the exit.

Stepping outside, Ryan squints up at the late afternoon sun and breathes in the fresh air. He starts walking to the student parking lot and sees that only a few cars remain. He spots Luke's truck parked at the north end, just where he said it would be. Ryan makes his way over to the truck. He lowers the back and tosses his gym bag into the bed of the pickup truck. He then opens his book bag to retrieve his reading assignment. Ryan stops abruptly when he notices a plain manilla envelope lodged between two spiral notebooks.

_Where did this come from..._

Suddenly, a black van pulls up and stops behind Ryan. The side door flies open and two men jump out. Within seconds, they grab their prey and subdue him, placing a black hood over his head while dragging him into the van.

Ryan's entire body jolts as the side door of the van is slammed shut. He immediately begins to struggle against being restrained, but is jerked back. He again fights to free himself and again, he's forcibly held back. He tries to kick but his legs are held firmly in place.

Ryan gasps then tries to suck in some air. The air is stale... the black hood smelling musty with traces of stale smoke. Ryan feels his heart pounding out of his chest. He tries to cry out for help but he can't. His mouth is bone dry. His throat is clamped shut with fear.

He can't scream... he can't run... he can barely breathe...

Ryan stares into the blackness. He feels it closing in on him, swallowing him up. The darkness... the eerie sense that something bad is going to happen.

And then he realizes...

_My nightmare has just begun..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Two

"Don't move."

Ryan immediately stops struggling when he hears a man speak. He hears a "click", then the feeling of a hard object being pressed up against the side of his head.

_A gun..._

Ryan tries to swallow but his throat is too dry. All he can do is concentrate on breathing what little oxygen he can get through the thick, black hood.

"Move and I'll blow your fuckin' brains out."

Ryan sits motionless on the floor of the van. Even if he wanted to move, he can't. He's paralyzed with fear.

"You're gonna listen and listen good," the man instructs in a low, ominous voice as the other man kneeling behind him tightens his grip around Ryan's arms.

Ryan tries to keep his wits about him. Since his sense of sight has been temporarily rendered useless, he knows he needs to use his other senses to determine what is happening in the off chance he actually lives through this. Ryan notes the van has started moving but it's moving very slowly.

_We seem to be just circling around in the parking lot..._

"Tomorrow, when you take the stand, you're gonna tell the jury you lied."

Ryan listens to the man's words as he begins to feel dizzy and slightly nauseous. He knows he's breathing in too much carbon dioxide. The black hood is close to suffocating...

"You lied in your statement to the police and you lied to the grand jury. That kid never told you Bob Stankey kept his medication from him, got it?"

Ryan tries to utter "yes" but nothing comes out. He can't speak... he can barely breathe...

"You made the whole thing up, right?"

Ryan feels the gun press more firmly against his temple as sweat beads up on his forehead and runs down his face.

"I can't hear you..."

Ryan senses the man leaning in close to him. He can smell his acrid breath.

"R...r...right..."

"Good, 'cuz if you don't, here's what's gonna happen."

Ryan clenches his fists then releases them, trying desperately to calm his nerves. It doesn't work.

"You're livin' with a real nice family now, aren't ya. They got a kid around your age... Seth, right?"

Ryan mumbles "yes" and tries to suck in some air as he listens to the man speak.

"Kid likes to skateboard, but doesn't seem to like wearin' any protective gear... ya know, like a helmet? Be a real shame if a car hit him. Kid's a frickin' stringbean. Probably break in half."

Ryan hears the man utter a snapping sound with his tongue as if something is breaking, then snicker.

"And Mrs. Cohen... Kirsten, is it? Ooh lordy, now there is one fine lookin' lady."

Ryan feels the sickness grow in his stomach as the bile wells up in his throat. He knows where this conversation is going and dreads what the man will say next.

"She works at the Newport Group... drives a fancy white SUV..."

Ryan feels the gun press up against his head even harder. He wants to move away but knows any movement would probably just incense his captors. He certainly doesn't want to do anything that would provoke their ire.

"Nice lookin' lady like that, be a shame if she got into a car accident. Probably mess up her makeup and hair... along with that pretty face of hers."

Ryan swallows the bile rising in his throat as he pictures Kirsten driving home from work, only to find the brakes on her Land Rover malfunctioning. He squeezes his eyes tight and tries to take in another breath, but he's unable to rid himself of the unsettling thought.

"Now I realize those people ain't blood. Maybe you don't care about them..."

_I care..._

"You got a brother... Trey, right?"

Ryan feels his head beginning to pound, the roar of his pulse in his ears becoming louder as his heart rate rises. Whoever these people are, they seem to know an awful lot about him.

"Sittin' in prison... bein' a model prisoner while he waits to be paroled..."

_Leave Trey out of this..._

"All sorts of nasty things happen in prison..."

_Please... no..._

"Can't you just picture it? The guy's takin' a shower... just mindin' his own business... when out of the blue he gets a shiv jammed straight into his gut."

Ryan lets out a small whimper and blinks away the stinging tears welling up in his eyes.

"What a fuckin' mess..."

Ryan hears a derisive laugh and recoils ever so slightly. He makes a small gasp for air as he tries desperately to rid the image in his mind of his brother getting stabbed.

"Some poor schmuck will have to clean up all that blood..."

"D...d...don't..."

"Don't what?" the man asks, leaning in closer to Ryan. "Speak up."

"Don't hur... hurt them..."

Ryan shudders as the man leans in so close he feels his hot breath cut through the black hood. "Well that's entirely up to you, now ain't it."

Suddenly, the vehicle comes to a full stop, the gun is lowered and the van door slides open. In a split second, the black hood is ripped off Ryan's head as the two men throw him out of the van. Ryan gasps and sucks in fresh air as he goes sprawling headlong onto the school parking lot; the rough cement scraping his hands and bare arms as small stones bite and rip into the tender flesh of his forearms. The impact knocks the wind out of him.

The van peels out, kicking up sand and dirt in its wake. Ryan turns his head to get a look but immediately starts choking and coughing as he breaths in the fog of dust. Within seconds, the black van is gone.

With weak, trembling arms, Ryan gingerly crawls over to a patch of grass. He continues coughing then begins heaving... his chest writhing as he throws up what was left of the chocolate almond energy bar he had eaten before soccer practice.

Ryan pushes himself up off the ground and tries to steady himself. He looks down and notices his pant leg torn and blood oozing from his right knee. He stumbles over to the back of Luke's truck and begins digging around his gym bag. He grabs his water bottle and shakes it, relieved there's still some fluid left. Ryan gulps down some water then douses his face with the rest.

"Hey, you all set?"

Startled, Ryan jumps slightly then relaxes a bit when he realizes it's Luke.

"Um... yeah," Ryan replies as he tosses his water bottle back into his gym bag and retrieves his gray hoodie.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine."

"What the hell happened to you?" Luke asks, noticing his friend's scraped up arms and bloodied knee.

"Um, I tripped."

"You tripped," Luke repeats with a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Yeah... uh... I tripped over the curb."

Luke cocks an eyebrow as he studies his friend.

"You tripped over the curb... that curb?" Luke asks, pointing over to the edge of the parking space.

"Yeah," Ryan replies. "Can we just drop it?"

Over the course of the summer, while Luke spent time forging a friendship with Ryan, he learned three things. First, he learned that his new friend didn't like to talk a lot, which didn't really bother Luke much. When Ryan did speak, it was usually about something important or useful.

"Okay, I'll drop it."

Second, Luke realized that Ryan is a loyal friend, a guy he can count on if he ever needs help. He isn't anything like his friends from Harbor, Chip and Nordland.

_Hope those jerks are enjoying their stay in juvie,_ Luke thinks to himself.

And thirdly, he knows that Ryan is a terrible liar. Seth found that out the hard way when he asked Ryan to lie to his parents for him. Luke forgets what is was about, but Ryan failed miserably and both boys were grounded for a week.

Ryan begins to put on his hoodie, hissing at the pain as he threads his badly scraped arms through the armholes. He then tries to zip it up, but he can't due to the incessant trembling of his hands.

Luke watches his friend and sighs. It's a warm, late afternoon in early September and the kid is putting on a sweat jacket.

_You're gonna hide your injuries from the Cohens. Now, why in the world would you do that?_

"I appreciate you giving me a lift home," Ryan states as nonchalantly as he can while hopping into the passenger side of the truck. Ryan knows Luke doesn't believe his "tripping over the curb" story, but it was the only thing he could think of on the spur of the moment.

"Hey, no problem," Luke says as he gets into his truck and turns on the ignition. Luke glances over at Ryan. He knows it's going to be a quiet ride home, but he doesn't want to keep pressing the matter. That would just make his friend clam up even more.

Ryan stares out the side window as Luke pulls out of the school parking lot. He rubs the perspiration off his forehead then runs his hand over his face, trying to get the man's voice out of his head.

_"Be a real shame if a car hit him..."_

Ryan wrestles with the unnerving thought and tries to clear his mind.

_"Nice lookin' lady like that... mess up that pretty face of hers."_

Ryan clenches his fists and attempts to steady his nerves.

_"Out of the blue, he gets a shiv jammed straight into his gut."_

Ryan runs his hand over his face again, wiping the perspiration away.

"This is all my fault," Ryan mumbles softly into the palm of his hand.

_ There is no way I can allow anything bad to happen to the people I care about._

"Huh? Did you say something?" Luke asks, glancing over at Ryan as he turns into the Cohen's subdivision.

"Um... no," Ryan quickly replies, glancing over at his friend. "I didn't say anything."

Ryan turns his head away, looks back out the side window and sighs to himself...

_I know what I have to do._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**I want to apologize for taking so long to update. I've been struggling with health issues the past few months and writing has, I'm afraid, taken a back seat. Also my cat, who already has kidney disease, has been diagnosed with liver cancer and holidays are in full swing... well, you get the picture. **

**I hope you'll be patient and stick with this story until the end. I've got it all laid out. I just have to write it! :-)**

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Three

"Isn't Ryan home yet?"

Kirsten looks up from the breakfast bar and sees her son amble listlessly into the kitchen, moping and dragging his feet.

"No, not yet," Kirsten replies as she returns to sorting through the mail.

"Why didn't you pick him up from practice? You always pick him up from practice."

"He texted me saying Luke was giving him a lift home."

Seth plops down on the stool, slumps his shoulders and sighs heavily. "I don't understand why Ryan couldn't go to Harbor. It's not fair."

"We've already been over this. The school would not make any exceptions," Kirsten says.

"But Ryan's probation will be over in a couple of months," Seth points out. "Why can't he transfer over to Harbor starting the next semester in January?"

"Your father and I discussed this and we agreed that stability is the most important thing right now for Ryan. He's also making new friends and getting involved in school activities."

"Yeah, but..."

"We also discussed it with Ryan and he told us he would prefer to stay at Corona Del Mar for the time being," Kirsten continues. "He's got enough on his plate right now. He doesn't need transferring to a new school compounding his stress."

"I suppose," Seth grudgingly acknowledges. "But it just seems like he's never home. He's either at soccer practice or over at Luke's."

"Well, they are doing a history project together," Kirsten states as she sets aside most of the mail for recycling. "And, I seem to recall they tried working on their project here but they kept getting interrupted."

Kirsten gives her son a stern stare, letting him know he was the source of their constant interruptions.

Seth shrugs off his mother's stare, gazes down at the breakfast bar and lets out a long sigh.

"I don't understand why I can't go to the hearing tomorrow with you guys," Seth says. "I would just be missing one day of school."

"Ryan told us he only wanted me and your father to come with him tomorrow," Kirsten replies, trying to be understanding.

"But why?"

"You know what happened to Ryan at the group home, don't you?" Kirsten asks.

"Yeah, Dad told me he was abused but wouldn't tell me any details," Seth replies.

"Ryan is a very private person. You need to respect that and give him space."

"I know..."

"The man who abused Ryan is on trial for second-degree murder," Kirsten says.

"Yeah, about this depraved indifference thing," Seth says. "I thought the kid committed suicide."

"His name is Tyler and he did kill himself but, according to Ryan, Tyler told him Bob Stankey withheld his medication from him. Medication for depression and anxiety... that boy suffered from bipolar disorder."

"So this Stankey guy is responsible?" Seth asks, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Yes, he is," Kirsten states. "The State Prosecutor is making the argument that if Tyler had his medication, he wouldn't have killed himself."

Kirsten watches her son continue to mope; his shoulders slumping down even further.

"Your father and I will be with Ryan tomorrow every step of the way," Kirsten says, reassuring her son. "Hopefully, when this trial is over, everything can get back to normal and Ryan can start healing."

_The boy needs to heal, _Kirsten thinks to herself. _And he won't be able to heal if that monster who abused him isn't locked up behind bars. _

"I really want this trial to be over," Seth says with melancholy in his voice.

"We all do," Kirsten acknowledges as she caresses her son's hands with her own. "And believe me when I say this, Ryan wants this trial to be over most of all."

* * *

Ryan slowly opens the front door and peeks his head inside the foyer. When he sees the coast is clear, he carefully steps in the house and quietly closes the door. Ryan hears voices coming from the kitchen.

_Kirsten and Seth, _Ryan thinks to himself. _Thank god they're alright. They're safe, at least for now..._

Ryan slips off his shoes and makes his way upstairs, lugging his gym bag and bookbag, trying to be as quiet as possible. He enters his bedroom and carefully sets his bags on the floor. Immediately, he grabs clean clothes from his closet and dresser and makes his way across the hall to the bathroom.

Ryan closes the bathroom door and takes in a deep breath, relieved to have made it this far undetected. He then begins the task of undressing; shedding his gray hoodie and peeling off his t-shirt. Ryan grits his teeth as the clothing rubs against his red, chafed forearms.

Ryan looks at his pale reflection in the mirror as he turns on the faucet. He immediately splashes cool water on his face then begins rinsing his sore arms under the stream of water. He turns off the water and grabs the soft hand towel. Ever so gently, he begins drying off, dabbing the towel along the streaks of raised, red welts. He grimaces as he gazes down at the inside of his forearms, all red, raw and throbbing with pain.

Then Ryan remembers the scrapes his got on his lower back when he fell backwards into a pile of construction material during the fight at the model home. Kirsten gave him some ointment to soothe the burning and relieve the pain. Ryan opens the cabinet and takes out the first aid kit. He's relieved to see some ointment left and immediately applies a thick coat over his scraped up arms. He wraps clean gauze around his forearms, tucking the ends in to secure. He then pulls on a long-sleeve, powder blue Henley, then places his t-shirt and gray hoodie in the hamper.

Ryan sadly looks down at his torn trousers and wonders if there's any way to mend them. He slips off his pants and folds them up neatly, deciding to place them back in his dresser. He'll deal with fixing them some other time.

Ryan wets a wad of kleenex and dabs his bloodied knee. He covers the wound with a band-aid and puts on a pair of clean pants. He then returns the first-aid kit in the cabinet and makes his way back to his bedroom.

"Hey, you're home! When did you get home?"

Ryan turns around and sees Seth standing in the threshold.

"Um... just a few minutes ago," Ryan replies as he places his damaged pants in his dresser drawer.

"Do you feel like playing a video game before dinner?" Seth asks, hoping his friend will say "yes". "Maybe it would get your mind off of... well, you know... stuff..."

Ryan offers up a half-smile, appreciating his friend's concern. "Sure, I could use a little distraction."

_But, I'm not sure how much it will help..._

* * *

"Hi, sweetheart," Sandy says as he walks into the kitchen and places a large take-out bag from Wong's on the breakfast bar. "How was your day?"

Kirsten opens the bag and begins the ritual of transferring the food into fancy serving dishes.

"Well, let's see... my father is being difficult..."

"Nothing new there," Sandy quips.

"He doesn't like the fact that I'm leaving work everyday at three, even though I'm working most weekends," Kirsten states.

"He doesn't like the _reason_ you're leaving work early," Sandy clarifies as he grabs some napkins and takes silverware out of the drawer to set the table.

"Too bad," Kirsten says with a bit of edge in her voice. "I want to be here when Seth and Ryan come home from school. My father needs to just deal with it."

Sandy finds himself unable to mask a pleased, almost smug grin on his face as he begins to set the table. He knows it's killing his father-in-law that his daughter is placing family before work. And not just his family, but the new addition to their family... Ryan.

"And Seth is being... well, how should I say it..."

"Needy?" Sandy says, finishing his wife's sentence as he makes his way back to the kitchen."

"Yes, needy. And I'm trying to be patient..."

"I know you are," Sandy says as he wraps his arms around his wife and hugs her warmly. "Why don't you call the boys down for dinner. I'll get the plates and finish setting the table."

"I don't think I'll have to," Kirsten says when she sees both Seth and Ryan enter the kitchen.

"I thought I smelled take-out from Wong's," Seth says, seemingly in a much better mood than he was earlier. "I'm starving. Let's eat."

Ryan swallows back the acrid taste in his throat; the smell of the take-out overwhelming his senses. His stomach twists and rolls as he fights off the urge to throw up. He's no where near hungry. The last thing he wants to do is eat.

"Ryan, I got you your favorite," Sandy says, guiding the boy to the dinner table. "Chicken with peppers and broccoli."

Ryan offers Sandy a pained but appreciative smile and quietly replies, "Thanks."

Ryan takes a seat at the table and watches as Sandy places a hefty size serving of rice, chicken and vegetables onto his plate. He looks down at the food and sighs, then glances up at the family, all digging into their meal and enjoying every salty, savory bite.

Ryan notices some chopsticks next to his fork. He fondly recalls how Kirsten taught him how to use chopsticks whenever they had take-out from Wongs, which was often. He picks up the chopsticks and lets out a small sigh of relief, knowing he can just pick up tiny morsels of food with the utensil. He scatters some chicken and broccoli around on his plate, then takes a small bite of sticky rice.

_I'll be fine..._

Ryan continues to flick bits of food around on his plate with the chopsticks. He can't stomach eating. All he can think about is how he's placed this family, people who have given him a home and have made him feel safe... and his brother...

_They're all in danger... because of me._

"Ryan... honey, aren't you hungry?" Kirsten asks gently, noticing the boy playing with his food instead of eating.

Ryan sets the chopsticks down on his plate and sighs, "No, I'm really not hungry. I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Kirsten says, reaching over and placing her hand upon the boy's hand, hoping to allay some of his distress. "We understand."

Ryan feels a hard lump form in his throat. He tries to swallow it down but he can't. It won't budge. He's sickened by what could happen to this family, and to his brother, all because of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not hungry," Ryan states softly. "May I be excused?"

Kirsten glances over at Sandy with a look of grave concern upon her face. She feels her heart sink, knowing the boy is distraught and is doing everything in his power to conceal it.

"Ryan, we can talk about it," Sandy offers, sharing his wife's concern.

"Thanks... but I think I'd like to just go to my room. I'm really tired."

"Alright," Sandy says, not wanting to push the boy too hard.

_He'll just shut down even more..._

Ryan stands up from the table and takes in a deep breath. He then looks up at Sandy, Kirsten and Seth and quietly says, "I'm sorry."

They all watch Ryan walk away; the boy's head lowered, looking directly at the ground... his face noticeably pained and conflicted.

"Maybe I should ask him if he wants to play some more video games," Seth offers.

"No, leave Ryan alone," Sandy states. "Give him some space."

"But..."

"No 'buts'," Kirsten pipes in. "Have you finished your homework?"

"No..." Seth grumbles, unable to mask his disappointment. "I was hoping you'd change your mind about tomorrow and I could come with you guys."

"Go finish your homework," Sandy orders. "Your mother and I will clean up."

"Fine," Seth says with an exasperated sigh, realizing he's been defeated. His slumped shoulders and listless amble returns as he drags his feet up the stairs to his bedroom.

"This is too much for Ryan," Kirsten says as she and Sandy begin clearing the table. "Who else is testifying tomorrow?"

"Well, the Medical Examiner who performed the autopsy and Sheriff Hicks will be testifying," Sandy replies.

"What about that other boy at the group home," Kirsten inquires as she begins putting the leftover food into plastic containers. "The one who corroborated Ryan's statement. Why isn't he testifying along with Ryan?"

"That boy turned eighteen three months ago and promptly got arrested for assault and attempted rape of a teenage girl," Sandy answers solemnly. "Mike Nolan..."

"He's the prosecutor, right?" Kirsten interrupts, wanting to make sure she has all of her facts straight.

"Yes," Sandy replies. "He felt it would be unwise to put that kid on the stand. Besides, he wanted a deal in exchange for his testimony and Mike wouldn't budge. He's got two young daughters. There was no way he was going to cut a deal."

"I don't blame him," Kirsten says.

"Mike feels he has an open and shut case," Sandy says, trying to reassure his wife. "With the medical files showing Tyler was on medication for psychiatric disorders and the autopsy showing no trace of the medication he needed in his bloodstream..." Sandy pauses a moment and takes Kirsten's hands into his. "Combine all that with the statement Ryan gave back in June and his testimony tomorrow..."

"But why was the lesser charge dropped?" Kirsten interrupts.

"The gross misdemeanor malicious punishment of a child?"

"Yes, why would they not charge Stankey with that?" Kirsten asks. "If he's found not guilty of the felony he would most certainly be found guilty of child abuse."

"That was the deal the defense attorney wanted," Sandy says. "With just the one felony charge, the defense is betting that the prosecutor won't be able to prove the case beyond a reasonable doubt and therefore the jury won't be able to convict. It's a risky move by the defense, but not that unusual."

"If they don't convict, then that monster will go free," Kirsten states as she leans in close to Sandy and rests her weary head on his shoulder.

"But he won't go free. They won't win," Sandy assures as he gives his wife a gentle hug. "I'm with Mike Nolan on this. He's got an open and shut case."

"You need to reassure Ryan," Kirsten says as she goes back to putting the leftovers away. "Maybe you could go..."

"Talk to him?" Sandy says, finishing his wife's sentence.

"Could you? I can finish up here."

"Of course, I can," Sandy says, kissing his wife on the top of her head. "Try not to worry. Everything's going to be alright."

* * *

Sandy makes his way up the spiral staircase. He peeks his head inside Seth's room and sees his son sitting up in bed with earphones on, listening to music while doing his homework. He then walks over to Ryan's bedroom. He notices the door slightly ajar but knocks softly before entering.

"Ryan, may I come in?"

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ryan looks up as Sandy enters the room. He knows Sandy senses something is wrong. Ryan quietly berates himself for not doing a better job hiding his feelings.

_The last thing I want is for Sandy and Kirsten to worry about me._

"Kirsten and I are worried about you," Sandy says, taking a seat next to Ryan on the bed.

Ryan lets out a long sigh and softly says, "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You don't need to apologize," Sandy reassures. "It's something that parents do. We worry about our kids."

Ryan glances over at Sandy and offers a small, heartfelt smile. The Cohen's have spent all summer making sure he feels a part of their family, and he couldn't be more grateful. With his father, brother and mother all serving time, Ryan knows he could be bouncing around from one foster home to another. Instead, he lives with a kind and loving family.

"I know you must be nervous about tomorrow."

"Yeah, I am... a little," Ryan acknowledges, although he's not sure how convincing he is at downplaying the dread that has consumed him.

"Just remember everything Mr. Nolan told you when we met with him the other day," Sandy says. "You rehearsed your testimony with him. You know the questions he's going to ask you and how you'll answer them, right?"

"Yes."

"And he also went over every possible question the defense may ask you."

"Yeah..."

"So just keep your eyes focused on Mr. Nolan," Sandy continues, knowing that Bob Stankey's presence in the courtroom will be unnerving for the boy. "He'll guide you through your testimony tomorrow. All you need to do is tell the truth."

Sandy notices the boy lower his head. He appears almost despondent as if something is tearing him apart inside.

"Remember, Kirsten and I will be with you," Sandy says with as much encouragement as he can muster.

"I know... and I appreciate it."

Sandy offers Ryan a warm smile and places his hand on the boy's slumped shoulder. He immediately removes his hand when Ryan flinches and slightly recoils, shrinking away from his touch.

Sandy sighs heavily. The boy hasn't flinched away from being touched in months.

"Ryan, we can talk about it..."

"No, I really don't want to talk," Ryan says quietly. "I'm tired, Sandy."

Sandy presses his lips together as he attempts to hide his frustration. If he's learned one thing about Ryan, it's that the boy will talk when he's ready to talk. No amount of pushing, prodding or pleading will change that fact.

In defeat, Sandy stands up and begins walking towards the door.

"Um... Sandy?"

Sandy turns around with anticipation and hope in his eyes. "Yes, Ryan? What is it?"

Ryan adamantly runs through his jumbled thoughts. He doesn't know why he stopped Sandy from leaving. It was foolish and careless. Telling Sandy what happened to him after soccer practice would do no one any good, especially Kirsten, Seth and Trey. He needs to remain quiet. Their lives depend on it.

"Um... nothing," Ryan says, almost in a whisper. "It's nothing."

Sandy runs his hand over his mouth, hiding his disappointment.

"You know I'm here, Ryan, if you want to talk," Sandy says.

"I know."

"I'll let you get some rest," Sandy says as he begins to leave Ryan's bedroom. "We'll have to head out early tomorrow morning due to rush hour. I'll wake you up."

"Okay. Thanks, Sandy."

Ryan watches Sandy leave and sighs deeply. He walks over and closes his bedroom door, then goes and sits back down on his bed. He runs his hands through his hair then down over his distraught face. Ryan peers through his fingers and sees his bookbag sitting on the floor where he left it.

Suddenly, he remembers the manilla envelope.

_Someone must have placed it in my bag while I was in the shower, _Ryan thinks to himself, recalling the noise he heard in the locker room. _I thought it was Luke..._

Ryan immediately makes his way over to his bag, unzips the top and takes out a 4 by 6 inch envelope. He turns it over a few times in his hands, looking for writing... anything... but the envelope is blank.

Ryan sits down on the edge of his bed and slowly opens the envelope. He removes three photographs. He begins to feel ill as he fights off the anxiety welling up inside him. Ryan gazes down at the first picture.

_Seth._

Ryan swallows the bile rising in his throat as he stares down at the picture; both he and Seth down at the pier. They were there just last weekend grabbing some lunch. Seth on his skateboard...

_"Be a real shame if a car hit him..."_

Ryan shudders as he hears the man's voice in his head. The thought of someone hurting his friend... the eerie feeling that someone was following them, taking pictures...

Ryan looks at the next photo and feels his heart sink.

_Kirsten._

Ryan looks at the photo. He studies it intently. Kirsten standing next to her Land Rover, ready to get in. She's in a parking lot. The Newport Group.

_She's leaving work, _Ryan thinks to himself. _She's probably on her way to pick me up from soccer practice..._

Ryan tries to shake off the uneasiness... the dread that has already taken hold of him. He draws in a deep breath and musters up the courage to look at the last picture.

_A shiv._

Ryan studies a picture of a closeup of a small knife. Someone holding a shiv.

_Trey is in danger..._

Ryan continues to study the photo. It's clear to him it was taken in a prison, but how could someone take a picture in prison? He knows it's probably easy to assemble small weapons, but to get a camera?

Ryan remembers when he and Sandy visited Trey. They had to give up their wallets, cell phones...

_We even had to take off our belts..._

Ryan places the pictures back inside the manilla envelope and walks over to the dresser. He opens the drawer and places the envelope underneath his torn pants. Ryan slowly closes his dresser drawer. He wishes he could make everything go away. He wishes he could keep everyone he cares about safe.

Ryan sighs heavily and leans his forehead against the tall dresser.

"What am I going to do?" Ryan whispers softly.

_This is all my fault._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**Thank you for all the well wishes. It was not a good start to the year as I had to put my beloved cat down on New Year's Day. His cancer took over and even though it was the humane thing to do, it still was very difficult. **

**This chapter is pretty much all "Ryan". I wanted to devote the trial to his character and not have too many other distractions.  
**

**Please remember this story is AU after the model home fire. For example, Ryan never went to cotillion, he's not even dating Marissa nor is he attending Harbor. So, what happened between Ryan and Trey at the end of season two doesn't pertain to this story because that revolved around Marissa. **

**I'm writing Ryan's and Trey's relationship as strained but the fact that they are brothers gives them a very special bond. This is something I tried to create in "A Bitter Pill" along with a back story for Trey. They do care about each other and the last thing Ryan would ever want is his brother getting hurt or killed. **

**I get the impression that some readers don't care much for Trey, Kirsten and Seth but, in this story, Ryan cares about them very much. This will be a guiding factor regarding his behavior.**

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Four

"The State calls Ryan Atwood to the stand."

Ryan walks down the aisle towards the front of the courtroom. He concentrates on his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. He doesn't know if he's ever been this nervous in his life. He wishes he could turn around and bolt out the door. But he can't. So he keeps walking. And he keeps breathing.

_In and out... slow and steady..._

Ryan glances around the courtroom. All eyes are on him. He feels completely naked. He rubs his sweaty palms on the sides of his legs and notes he is wearing clothes. Ryan was relieved when Sandy told him he didn't have to wear a suit; just a pair of nice pants, a button-down shirt and a sport coat. A tie would have been suffocating.

_I'm already choking on my anxiety..._

Ryan glances to his left. He sees the back of Bob Stankey's head; round and balding with a large port wine stain birthmark on his scalp. He notes the man is wearing a charcoal gray suit, most likely to show the jury he's an upstanding guy. He'd never hurt a kid.

_Hope the tie strangles him..._

Ryan finally makes it to the front of the courtroom. He walks to the witness stand and immediately hears the bailiff's commanding voice.

"Please raise your right hand."

Ryan raises his right hand. He feels the anxiety welling up inside him. He wonders if Stankey can tell how much he's perspiring.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

Ryan hears the words come out of his mouth, but they seem distant, as if someone else is saying them. He lowers his right hand and sits down on the witness stand. He notes the impeccably polished, dark-stained cherry wood, and a microphone situated in front of him.

Ryan breathes a short sigh of relief, grateful that the front of the witness stand is higher than his seat. It will block the view of his lap.

_No one will be able to see how much my hands are shaking._

"Please state your full name for the record."

Ryan leans forward and answers quietly into the microphone, "Ryan Francis Atwood."

Ryan briefly glances over at the judge. He guesses the man to be in his late fifties with his graying hair and thick lines etching his face, most likely due to a lifelong habit of smoking or stress from the job. Possibly both. He then warily glances over towards the defense attorney, a middle-aged woman with deep frown lines furrowed into the sides of her mouth. The woman looks as if she hasn't smiled in decades.

_Probably from defending creeps like Stankey..._

Ryan then looks out at the courtroom and immediately spots Sandy and Kirsten, both offering their heartfelt, encouraging smiles. How he hates the thought of disappointing them. They deserve so much better.

Kirsten leans in towards Sandy and whispers, "He's so nervous. I'm worried, Sandy. Is he going to be alright?"

"Don't worry, honey," Sandy whispers back, trying to allay his wife's concern as well as his own. "We knew he would be nervous testifying. It's only natural."

Sandy places his hand over Kirsten's hand and squeezes gently, offering some support. But he can't seem to shake a sense of foreboding, a feeling that something is about to go very wrong. He's confused as to why the defense attorney hasn't cross-examined any witnesses thus far; not the Medical Examiner or Sheriff Hicks.

_It doesn't make any sense,_ Sandy thinks to himself. He can come up with at least a handful of questions he would have asked, but the defense has, so far, remained quiet.

"Mr. Nolan, you may begin."

"Thank you, Your Honor," the State Prosecutor says as he rises from his seat while straightening up a stack of papers.

"First of all, Ryan, I want to thank you for being here this morning."

Ryan nods his head in a silent gesture. His stomach twists and churns. He tries to swallow but his throat is bone dry. He had one slice of toast topped with strawberry jam for breakfast. He would hate to throw that up.

Ryan notices a glass of water sitting in a cubbyhole inside the witness stand.

"Feel free to take a drink," the judge states in a slightly raspy voice, sensing the boy is nervous. "That's why the glass of water is there."

Ryan picks up the glass of water. His hands shake mercilessly as he raises the glass to his dry lips. He takes a welcome sip of the fluid then carefully returns the glass to its perch, thankful he didn't spill the contents all over himself.

"Do you need a few moments, Ryan?" Mike Nolan asks, concerned about the boy's level of nervousness. A person would have to be blind not to notice.

Ryan studies the State Prosecutor, a man around Sandy's age with an uncanny resemblance to Kevin Costner from the movie _Thirteen Days._

"Um no... I'm fine."

"All right then," Mike Nolan states as he prepares to question his star witness. "Ryan, you stayed at the Chino Hills Group Home for Boys for one month a little over a year ago, is this correct?"

"Yes."

"And during that time, Tyler Jansen was also staying there?"

"Yes."

"So you knew Tyler, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you say you were friends?"

"Um... no. We weren't really friends," Ryan states in a soft voice. "We just knew each other."

"So acquaintances then," Mike Nolan clarifies.

"Yes."

Ryan clenches his sweaty palms together. He doesn't dare take another sip of water. The glass would slip right through his wet, trembling grip.

"A little over three months ago, you gave a statement to Sheriff Ray Hicks regarding Tyler Jansen's suicide."

"Yes."

"You then testified in front of a grand jury regarding your statement. Is this true?"

"Um... yes."

"I'd like to submit the statement into evidence, Your Honor," the prosecutor says as he approaches the bench and hands the judge the piece of paper.

Mike Nolan returns to his table and glances down at his notes as he prepares to ask his next question.

"In your statement, Ryan, you said that on your last day at the group home Tyler Jansen confided in you. He told you the defendant, Bob Stankey," the prosecutor states, pausing for effect while pointing over to the defense table, "was withholding his medication from him..."

"Objection, Your Honor!" the Defense Attorney emphatically states while abruptly rising from her chair. "Hearsay."

"Overruled," the judge quickly states. "This is a sworn statement that has been placed into evidence. You'll have your chance to cross-examine the witness."

The defense attorney lets out an irritated huff and sits back down, the indelible scowl on her face etching deeper, not liking the judge's decision. The judge clearly seems to be favoring the teenager. She knows her client has been telling her not to worry. "_There's no way I'm gonna be convicted_," she remembers him telling her. But, she knows if she can't get the evidence thrown out, Bob Stankey will be facing the next twenty years behind bars.

"You may continue, Counselor."

"Thank you, Your Honor," Mike Nolan says as he runs his hand down his paisley silk tie and quickly gathers his thoughts. He doesn't like being interrupted, although he's more than happy with this opportunity to repeat the end of his last question.

"Ryan, you said in your statement that Tyler told you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication from him. Vital, much needed medication for treating depression and bi-polar disorder. Is this correct?"

Ryan peers down at his lap. He rubs his sweaty palms on his pants, but it doesn't help.

"Ryan, could you please answer the question?" Mike Nolan studies the boy and suddenly becomes worried. "Did Tyler Jansen tell you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication?"

Ryan sees flashes of the pictures from the manilla envelope jump in front of his eyes. Kirsten getting into her Land Rover, Seth on his skateboard... the makeshift knife. He immediately closes his eyes but only sees black. He shudders from the memory of the hood being pulled over his head; the thick, rough burlap smelling of stale smoke and cheap whiskey that permeated his nostrils; the feeling of a muzzle of a gun being pressed against his temple; the voice of a stranger threatening three people he cares deeply about.

_I have to keep them safe..._

Ryan swallows down the bile rising in his throat and slowly opens his eyes as perspiration begins beading on his forehead.

_I don't matter... But they do. They matter._

Ryan knows he's expendable.

"Ryan, could you please answer the question?" Mike Nolan asks with more urgency in his voice.

_I can't let anything happen to them... Tyler is gone. I can't bring him back._

Ryan feels Stankey staring at him, the man's beady eyes burning two gaping holes into his chest. He doesn't dare look over at him.

"Mr. Atwood, you need to answer the question," the judge states, prompting the witness.

Again Mike Nolan repeats his pivotal question. "Did Tyler Jansen tell you Bob Stankey was withholding his medication?"

Ryan closes his eyes again, lowers his head and utters the only word he can.

"No."

Mike Nolan gasps. He can't believe what he has just heard.

"Ryan, maybe you didn't understand what I asked..."

"I understood," Ryan answers solemnly, lowering his head down even further.

Ryan hears the commotion in the courtroom. He wants to look at Sandy and Kirsten but he can't. He feels too ashamed.

"Permission to approach the witness, Your Honor," the prosecutor cries out. He needs to talk directly to the boy. He needs to find out why he's lying.

"You may approach the witness," the judge states, curious about what has just transpired.

Mike Nolan quickly makes his way up front, places his hand over the microphone and leans in close to his witness. "Ryan, do you understand what perjury is? Do you realize that lying under oath is a felony?"

Ryan keeps his head lowered and softly replies, "Yes."

"I don't understand. We practiced. We went through all of this..."

"Your Honor, the witness has already answered the question," the Defense Attorney states, becoming more confident. She is quite pleased with how the testimony has transpired.

"I agree," the Judge says. "Counselor, do you have any more questions for this witness?"

Mike Nolan runs his hand over his beleaguered face. He returns to his table and sits down, literally at a complete loss. He then feels someone's hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to turn around. It's Sandy Cohen.

"Ask him if he's answering under duress," Sandy whispers to the attorney. "He's lying. And I know Ryan. He doesn't lie unless there's a very good reason."

Mike Nolan nods his head to Sandy and watches the man quietly return to his seat and sit down next to his visibly shaken wife.

"I have one more question, Your Honor," the prosecutor states as he stands back up. "Ryan, were you under any sort of duress when you answered "no" to my last question?"

Ryan feels sick to his stomach. Of course he answered under duress. Everyone knows he's lying. But he can't admit it. He can't take the chance. Spending the next couple of years in juvie or maybe even prison is a small price to pay to keep three people safe.

"No," Ryan replies softly with his head still lowered. "I'm..." Ryan pauses a moment, then sighs. "I'm not under duress."

Ryan hears another wave of commotion from the onlookers and jumps slightly when the judge pounds his gavel, calling for order in his courtroom.

"I have no further questions, Your Honor," Mike Nolan sighs in defeat. There's no more he can do. The damage has been done.

"Defense, would you like to cross-examine?" the judge asks.

"Yes, Your Honor. Very much so."

Ryan winces at the sheer confidence in the Defense Attorney's voice. And he knows exactly what she's going to ask.

"Ryan, you have admitted that the statement you gave to Sheriff Hicks is false. If this correct?"

Ryan rubs his sweaty palms on his lap, then softly replies, "Yes."

"And, under oath, you lied to the Grand Jury stating that my client, Bob Stankey, had withheld medication from Tyler Jansen. Is this also correct?"

Ryan tries to swallow but his throat is bone dry. He concentrates on his breathing. In and out. Slow and steady. It doesn't help.

"Yes," Ryan answers, almost in a whisper.

"Your Honor, I respectfully request that Mr. Atwood's statement and all evidence attained through the search warrant that was issued in response to Mr. Atwood's statement be thrown out."

"Objection, Your Honor!" Mike Nolan cries out as he abruptly stands up. "That evidence was attained legally..."

"Overruled," the judge states emphatically. "It is now clear that the search warrant was issued on false information, therefore all evidence attained through the warrant must be thrown out. The Medical Examiner's report, testimony from Sheriff Ray Hicks as well as the actual statement will no longer be in evidence."

"I have no further questions, Your Honor," the Defense Attorney says smugly.

The judge glances back over at the State Prosecutor. "Counselor, do you have any other evidence? Any other witnesses to call?"

"No, Your Honor," Mike Nolan says, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice but failing miserably. "The State has nothing more."

Ryan still keeps his head lowered. He can't look up. He doesn't dare look at anyone. All he wants to do is leave. Then he hears the judge address him directly.

"Mr. Atwood, you have admitted to lying under oath to the Grand Jury and therefore I have no choice but to charge you with the crime of perjury. Officer, you may escort Mr. Atwood out."

Ryan stands up on shaky legs and quickly grabs the witness stand to keep from falling. When he regains his balance, he places his hands behind his back and winces slightly when the officer places the cold handcuffs around his wrists. He knows the procedure. He's done this before.

_I'll be fine..._

As the officer walks him towards the exit, Ryan slowly raises his head and warily glances over at Bob Stankey. He sees a smug grin emerge on the man's face with the unnerving look of a predator eyeing its prey. Ryan immediately looks away and continues walking out of the courtroom. He listens to the officer drone on about his Miranda rights. He then wonders what Sandy and Kirsten could be thinking. How disappointed they must be in him. But he's an Atwood. His father, brother and mother are all behind bars. It was just a matter of time before he joined them.

_They deserve so much better..._

The Defense Attorney immediately stands up and makes her plea. "Your Honor, it is clear that without the statement and evidence from the search warrant, the State does not have a case. Therefore, I respectfully ask that the charges against my client, Bob Stankey, be dropped."

Again, commotion besets the courtroom and again the judge pounds his gavel.

"I agree," the Judge states. "Without the evidence, the State cannot prove its case. And without further evidence and witnesses produced by the State, I must rule that the charge of murder in the second degree due to depraved indifference is dropped. Mr. Stankey, you are free to go."

Ryan hears the gavel again as he's escorted down the hall to booking. He can do a couple of years in prison. When he gets out, he'll be eighteen. The Cohen's won't have to be responsible for him anymore. He'll be able to just disappear and they'll be able to get on with their lives.

_I don't matter. But they do... they matter._

Ryan steps into the elevator with the police officer and watches the door slowly close in front of him.

He knows he's expendable.

_At least I know they'll be safe now.  
_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:**Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**For those readers who are familiar with some of my past stories, you know that I like to find ways to separate Ryan from the Cohens and then have him find his way back again (with the help of Sandy, of course). This story will be no different and, in this case, Sandy and Sheriff Hicks will be at the forefront in their quest to help Ryan.**

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Five

"What in the hell happened, Sandy?"

"I don't know, Mike," Sandy replies to the angry prosecutor. And he doesn't blame him for being angry. He's spent the last three months preparing for this trial, only to see the defendant go free and his young witness arrested for perjury.

"I went through everything with Ryan over the weekend," Mike tells Sandy, not even trying to hide his frustration. "All he had to do was answer 'yes' to my questions. That's all!"

"I know. Believe me, I'm as much at a loss as you are," Sandy says. "But I know Ryan. He would only lie because he had no other choice. Someone got to him."

"Are you saying Stankey got to him?" Mike asks. "That's witness tampering. You had better have some proof."

"I'll get you the proof, Mike," Sandy asserts. "I'm not going to let Ryan go to prison over this. I know there's more to it. I just need to find out what happened."

"You know my office is always open to you," Mike says, his voice more calm as he realizes the man is as much distraught as he is over the recent events. "If you can find evidence of witness tampering, bring it to me. I want Stankey locked up. That man needs to be behind bars."

"I'll find you the evidence," Sandy promises, although he has no idea where he'll get it. His only hope is that Ryan will talk.

"Come on, let's try to find Sheriff Hicks," Sandy tells Kirsten as he takes her hand and steers them both through the horde of people exiting the courtroom.

"Where's Ryan?" Kirsten asks frantically. "Can we see him?"

"He's probably in booking," Sandy replies. "Sheriff Hicks will be able to..."

Sandy immediately stops talking when he sees Bob Stankey in the hallway; the man laughing and smiling, hugging his defense attorney while thanking her for a job well done.

Sandy lets go of Kirsten's hand and immediately makes a beeline over to Stankey.

"You!" Sandy shouts as he pushes the larger man away from his lawyer. "What did you do! I know you're responsible for this!"

"I don't know who you are or what you're talking about," Bob Stankey says as he adjusts his suit and straightens up his tie.

"My name is Sandy Cohen. I'm Ryan's lawyer and legal guardian."

"Aw, how sweet. The kid somehow managed to get himself a guardian," Stankey replies with fake sincerity. "What did he have to do, huh? You can tell me," Stankey says with a sly wink. "Ya know, we'll keep it just between us men..."

"I know you got to him somehow," Sandy says, ignoring the man's last lewd remark. "And believe you me, I will not stop until I find out..."

"Whoa... wait just a minute," Stankey interrupts, holding his hands up in defense, feigning innocence. "I had nothin' to do with that little hoodlum lying on the stand."

"Like hell you didn't!" Sandy shouts back.

"This is what I know, Mr. hotshot lawyer and legal guar-deee-ann..." Stankey says, leaning in close to Sandy while overexaggerating the syllables of his last word. "Judges don't like it when folks lie in their courtroom. Your mangy little foster kid is gonna go to back to juvie or maybe even prison. And a kid like Ryan? I'm sure he'll be real popular amongst the prison population." Stankey leans in even closer to Sandy and with a wolfish grin adds, "Why, he might as well start bendin' over right now."

"Why you sick son of a bitch!" Sandy cries out as he pushes the man up against the wall. Sandy pins Stankey against the wall with one hand firmly grasping his tie. He clenches his other hand into a tight fist and holds it up to Stankey's face. Sandy doesn't think he's ever been this angry as he feels an unbridled rage surge up inside him. As Sandy begins his motion to punch the boorish man in his jaw, a long arm comes swooping down, blocking Sandy's ability to execute his blow.

"Step back, Mr. Cohen!" Ray Hicks orders. "Do not make me have to arrest you for assault. Believe me, it is not worth going to prison over this piece of garbage."

Sandy feels hot tears well up in his eyes. He glares at Bob Stankey. He knows what the man did to Ryan when the boy was in the group home. He'll never understand how anyone could ever harm a kid. Sandy looks over at the sheriff; the man's face stern yet understanding. He then turns and looks at his clenched fist, still at the ready, aching to make contact with Stankey's face.

Sandy then remembers the talk he had with Ryan about fighting. He had told the boy it was wrong to lash out and punch people... how he just had to not fight. Step away. Take a deep breath. It seemed so plain and simple to Sandy back then. But now he wonders, did the boy feel this kind of rage when he lashed out and got into fights?

_What kind of man would I be... what kind of role model would I be for the kid if I throw this punch._

Sandy slowly lowers his arm and releases Stankey from his grip. He then steps away and takes in a deep breath. He knows the sheriff is right. He won't be able to help Ryan if he's in jail. He needs to be patient.

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood," Stankey quips as he straightens his suit and tie. "Otherwise, I'd press charges and make sure your ass is dragged off to jail."

"Why don't you quit while you're ahead," the sheriff offers. "Emotions are running high right now. I suggest you leave while you can still walk."

"Is that a threat, Sheriff?" Stankey asks.

"No, just some honest, helpful advice," Ray replies. "Plus, I find your presence is really stinking up the place."

Bob Stankey scoffs at the sheriff, but doesn't take the bait. He ignores the disparaging remark and walks away.

"Sheriff Hicks, can we see Ryan?" Kirsten asks, scurrying over to join her husband. Kirsten immediately takes Sandy's hand into hers, searching for comfort. "Where is he? We need to see him."

"He's being booked right now," Ray Hicks replies. "There's a room you can wait in. Why don't you folks follow me."

Ray Hicks brings the anxious parents to a small room with a couch, couple of chairs and a half-filled coffee pot set atop a formica counter.

"I'll go check on Ryan," Ray says. "You folks wait here. Help yourself to some coffee."

After the sheriff leaves, Sandy immediately takes out his cell phone and begins perusing his list of contacts.

"What are you doing?" Kirsten asks.

"I'm looking for someone I met while at Berkeley. Jay Strasser. He's a defense attorney."

"Is he good?" Kirsten asks. "I mean, have you been following his career? Has he had success?"

"He's won more cases than he's lost," Sandy replies. "But I think Ryan will have to have a good defense attorney. Someone in the private sector."

"But what about you?" Kirsten asks.

"I can certainly represent him, but I'm afraid I may be too personally involved," Sandy explains, still shaken by his encounter out in the hall with Bob Stankey. "I'm not sure I'd be able to keep an open mind. My emotions may get the best of me. Ryan needs... Ryan deserves the best defense we can give him."

Sandy looks up from his phone when he sees Ray Hicks return. "Sheriff, what is it?" Sandy asks when he notices the dour expression on the sheriff's face. "Is Ryan alright?"

"He's fine," Ray replies. "But..."

"But what?" Sandy and Kirsten both ask in unison.

"Ryan has stated that he doesn't want to see you," Ray Hicks replies.

"He doesn't want to see us?" Sandy questions in utter disbelief.

"I'm sorry, but that is the boy's wishes," Ray replies, understanding the man's frustration.

"What else are you not telling us," Sandy says, noting the man's demeanor has become even more solemn.

Ray Hicks lets out a long sigh as he runs his hand through his thinning hair. He knows he must be honest with this family. "Ryan has signed a written confession."

"He what?" Sandy asks, completely dumbfounded. "Who took his confession? Did he have a lawyer with him?"

"I'm afraid Ryan willingly signed the confession. It's all on tape. He declined legal representation," Ray replies. "Ryan did agree to being assigned a Public Defender for the hearing..."

"I want to get him a good defense attorney," Sandy says.

"I understand," Ray states with sympathy. "But for some reason, Ryan seems to want to board a bullet train straight back to juvie. We need to start asking ourselves 'why'."

"He signed a confession and he won't see us," Sandy mutters aloud as he paces back and forth in the small room. He can't make any sense of the boy's behavior.

"There's something more going on," Ray says.

"I believe Bob Stankey got to him," Sandy states.

"I agree," Ray replies. "But we need proof."

Ray Hicks walks over to the distraught parents and gently places his hands on their shoulders. "Why don't you folks go home. It's almost two. Your son, Seth, will probably be getting out of school soon."

"Oh my... Seth..." Sandy sighs. "We need to tell him what has happened before he hears it on the news."

"Before you leave, there is one more thing," Ray says. "Do you happen to know how Ryan got his injuries?"

"Injuries?" Sandy inquires. "What injuries?"

"During booking when he changed clothes, the officer noted cuts and scrapes on both of Ryan's forearms and also a cut and bruise on his knee."

"Maybe he got injured at soccer practice," Kirsten offers. "But why wouldn't he tell us?"

Sandy looks at his wife and sighs. "It's Ryan, remember? He probably didn't want to bother us."

"Listen, Ryan is safe. He's in a holding cell and due to his age, he will not be placed with anyone else," Ray assures. "I'll check in on him. Ryan may not want to talk to me, but he can't refuse to see me. I am the Sheriff."

Kirsten leans into Sandy. She welcomes her husband's embrace as he wraps his arm around her shoulders.

"Let's give the boy a little time," Ray continues. "I will personally make sure he's safe and has everything he needs."

"He's right, honey," Sandy says, although he can't seem to hide the reluctance in his voice. "Sheriff, you'll contact me if anything changes..."

"I will contact you no matter what," Ray assures. "Trust me. Go home and I'll check on Ryan. Talk to your son. Maybe he knows something about Ryan's injuries."

Sheriff Hicks watches Sandy and Kirsten leave, then makes a beeline straight to the Ryan's holding cell. As he approaches the cell, he notices the boy sitting on the edge of the cot, dressed in a blue jumpsuit with his head lowered, deep in thought.

"Ryan, are you comfortable? Is there anything I can get you," Ray asks, hoping the boy will respond.

Ray sighs as silence fills the room. At this moment, he'd give anything to be able to read the kid's mind.

"Well, if you do need anything, please let me know," Ray offers as he begins to take his leave.

"Sandy and Kirsten... did they go home?" Ryan asks quietly with his head still lowered.

"Yes, they've left," Ray replies. "But, they didn't want to leave."

"Would it be possible..." Ryan raises his head and looks at the tall sheriff, still dressed in the suit he wore for the trial. He remembers the first time he met the man.

_I was in the hospital... after the model home burned down... _

Ryan recalls how attentive and understanding the sheriff was. He thought he was going to be arrested and suffer the indignity of being handcuffed to the bed railing, but he wasn't.

_Sheriff Hicks didn't arrest me. He helped me._

"I mean, I was wondering if..."

"Go on, Ryan... It's alright," the sheriff states, urging the boy to say what's on his mind.

"Would it be okay if I made a phone call?" Ryan asks.

"Of course, you can make a phone call," Ray assures. "Who would you like to call?"

"My brother."

"Your brother?" Ray responds, slightly surprised. He was hoping the boy was having second thoughts and wanted to call the Cohen's.

"Yeah... Trey... he's in..."

"Prison," Ray states, finishing the boy's sentence. "I'll arrange the phone call for you. It may takes a few minutes though."

Ryan watches the sheriff leave, then lowers his head again. He rubs his hands on his lap and lets out a heavy sigh. How he hates having to push Sandy and Kirsten away, but it's the only way to keep them safe.

_I have to keep them safe..._

Suddenly feeling anxious, Ryan abruptly stands up and begins pacing back and forth. He knows his brother will have a million questions to ask him, but there's only one thing he needs to talk about.

"Alright Ryan, I was able to arrange a call with your brother," Ray says, returning to the holding cell. Ray holds up a pair of handcuffs and immediately apologizes. "I'm sorry. I must follow protocol."

"It's alright. I understand," Ryan says as he walks to the front of the cell and places his arms through a wide gap in the bars.

Ray carefully places the cuffs around Ryan's wrists, opens the cell door, then escorts the boy to a small room.

Ryan looks around the room as the sheriff removes the handcuffs. He notes the cement walls painted in drab beige, much of it chipping away due to age and neglect. He breathes in the stale air from a room that has had its door closed more often then opened. A black phone sitting atop a small table with one folding chair make up the minimalist decor.

"Your brother is holding on line one. Just push the button when you're ready to talk to him," Ray instructs the boy. "I'll wait right out here in the hallway. Knock on the door when you're done."

Ryan watches the sheriff leave the room. He sits down on the chair and looks intently at the phone. He takes in a deep breath, then exhales. Ryan picks up the receiver and pushes the first lighted button.

_"Ry, is that you?"_

"Hey, Trey..."

_"What's goin' on? Are you alright?"_

"I'm fine, Trey..."

_"You always say you're fine. Tell me, what's really goin' on... The trial started, didn't it? Did you stick it to that creep-of-a-sadist Stankey?"_

Ryan sits quietly as he listens to his brother reel off his questions. He waits patiently, then finds a suitable moment to talk.

"Trey, you have to promise me something," Ryan says quietly, lowering his head while he holds the phone receiver close to his ear and mouth, creating a sense of intimacy.

_"Promise you somethin'? What do you want me to promise you?"_

"I want you to promise me you'll stay safe," Ryan says. "Don't trust anyone. Keep your eyes and ears open. Always look over your shoulder... you know... be safe."

_"You know I'm careful, Ry. What's this about?"_

"Promise me, Trey," Ryan repeats as he hasn't heard the answer he wants to hear. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

_"All right, I'll stay safe."_

"Promise?"

_"Yeah, I promise."_

Ryan listens to Trey's words, promising to stay safe. He can only hope that his brother means it.

"Mmm 'kay, Trey," Ryan says, satisfied with the answer. "I gotta go now..."

_"Wait, Ry! C'mon', tell me what's goin' on?"_

"'Bye, Trey."

Ryan places the receiver back on its cradle and sighs. There's nothing more he can do. He can only hope that his brother remains vigilant while he serves out the remaining time of his sentence.

Ryan runs his hands through his hair, then down over his beleaguered face.

_Sandy and Kirsten should be home soon, _Ryan thinks to himself.

Ryan glances up at the clock on the wall and sees its a quarter past two. He knows Seth will be home from school at three. Sandy and Kirsten will be home by then. The Cohen's will be home, safe and sound.

"Seth and Kirsten will be safe," Ryan whispers to himself. "Sandy will keep them safe."

_Sandy always keeps his family safe..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**Because this is a sequel, I'm bridging together people and events that happened in "A Bitter Pill" with this story. I understand that it's probably been awhile since people have read "A Bitter Pill". Or maybe some people haven't read it. ;-) I'll do my best to explain scenarios and give background to characters that I'm using now that were in my last story.**

**I'm a huge fan of the original TV series "Law and Order". This story is my version of it, although I wrote the courtroom segment first. Sandy will be assisting Sheriff Hicks with the investigation to find out what happened to Ryan. Basically, Sandy will be coming to Ryan's rescue. :-)**

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Six

Kirsten paces back and forth outside her husband's home office; her arms folded firmly against her ribs. As soon as they got home, Sandy made a beeline to his office to make, in his words, crucial phone calls. She was given the task of explaining to Seth what happened in court this morning and why his best friend is sitting in jail with a perjury charge hanging over his head.

The office door opens and immediately Kirsten stops pacing.

"Sandy, what is it?"

Sandy runs his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighs. "I found out who was appointed Ryan's public defender," Sandy says.

"Who?" Kirsten asks nervously.

"George O'Reilly," Sandy replies.

"Wasn't he originally assigned Ryan's case?" Kirsten asks. "When he was first arrested with Trey for trying to steal a car?"

"Yes," Sandy solemnly answers.

"I don't understand," Kirsten says. "Is there a problem with Mr. O'Reilly handling Ryan's case?"

"Oh, where do I begin," Sandy says, sighing heavily. "Ever since George suffered his heart attack, he's been coasting. He's a mere handful of years away from retirement. The man is just going through the motions. Ryan doesn't need this."

"What are you saying, Sandy?"

"What I'm saying is that any defense attorney who gives a damn will try everything in his power to get Ryan's written confession thrown out," Sandy explains. "Starting with filing motions, anything to delay a plea hearing."

"So this George O'Reilly... he's not going to do that?"

"George will look at this case and see a kid who's admitted to committing perjury and will petition the court to give Ryan a term of two years in juvie with no prison time."

"But, Ryan didn't lie to the grand jury," Kirsten say. "He lied today and we know he must have had a good reason."

"Well, depending upon the judge and his mood, Ryan could face up to five years," Sandy says.

"We can't let Ryan go back to juvie or to prison," Kirsten says as she wraps her arms around her distraught husband and offers him a comforting hug. "What about your friend from college? Do you think he can help Ryan?"

"I called and left a message," Sandy says, returning his wife's warm embrace. "He's probably in court right now. Hopefully he'll get back to me soon."

Sandy kisses Kirsten on her cheek then scowls when he hears the doorbell ring. The last thing he's in the mood for is visitors, especially a certain nosy next-door neighbor.

"I'll get it," Kirsten says, sensing her husband's agitation.

"If it's Julie Cooper, you are to immediately slam the door in her face!" Sandy orders.

"What if it's my father?" Kirsten asks as she makes her way to the foyer.

"Slam it harder!"

Kirsten opens the front door. She looks up and sees Ray Hicks standing on the stoop, now dressed in his uniform and holding a large, plastic bag.

"Sheriff Hicks, please come in," Kirsten says, stepping aside.

"Is Ryan alright?" Sandy asks, joining his wife. "Did something happen?"

"Ryan's fine," Ray replies, stepping into the foyer. "He was sleeping when I left. My deputy is keeping a close eye on him."

"I don't think Ryan's gotten a decent night's sleep in days, maybe even weeks," Kirsten says.

"I wanted to bring over his belongings," Ray says, handing the bag over to the parents. "Were you able to talk to your son about Ryan's injuries?"

"Seth didn't know anything," Kirsten says. "He didn't even know he was injured."

"None of us knew," Sandy states. "He hid it from us."

"There's one other thing," Ray continues, disappointed he didn't get any leads on why the boy has so many scrapes on his arms and a gash on his knee. "Ryan wanted to call his brother..."

"Trey? Really?" Sandy asks, a little surprised.

"Are the brothers close?" Ray asks. "Ryan did talk to him, but the call only lasted a few minutes."

"I believe they were once close, but their relationship is strained right now," Sandy replies. "We visited Trey back in the Spring. Their conversation became... how shall I put it... a bit tense."

"So you have no idea why Ryan would want to talk to his brother," Ray states, wanting to clarify.

"Trey knows the trial is this week but I can't imagine Ryan wanting to tell his brother about what has just transpired," Sandy says. "It would only upset Trey and make him worry."

"The boy is certainly an enigma," Ray says, scratching the top of his head.

The doorbell rings. Sandy scowls again. "I'll get it." Sandy opens the front door, ready to tell whoever it is that they are not welcome.

"Hi, Mr. C.," Luke says with a smile. "I noticed the cars out in front. Is Ryan home?"

"Luke," Sandy says, greeting the eager teenager. "Come in."

Luke enters the crowded foyer and immediately notices Sheriff Hicks.

"Luke, it's good to see you," Ray says with a heartwarming smile. "You're staying out of trouble, I take it?"

"Yes sir," Luke replies. "No trouble here, sir."

"And I was informed that you've completed your community service."

"Yes sir," Luke replies again. "The beach is litter-free... totally pristine, sir. Why you could eat your lobster tails from the Crab Shack right off the sand..."

"Relax, Luke," Ray says with a reassuring smile as he places his hand upon the teenager's shoulder. This is what he wants to see. A success story. A youngster who made a bad decision... a horrible mistake... and has learned from it. A teenager who has turned his life around, for the better. "I'm happy to see you've made positive changes. And what I've heard, you're good friends with Ryan now."

"Yeah, we are," Luke says. "Speaking of Ryan, is he home? I've got his assignments from the classes he missed today."

"Ryan isn't here," Sandy says, taking the school folder from Luke.

"Uh... I don't understand..."

"Luke, Ryan was arrested," Sandy says, trying to figure out a good way to explain the situation. He concludes that there is none. "He lied on the witness stand..."

Luke lets out a boisterous laugh, then immediately stops when he sees no one is laughing with him.

"You're serious," Luke states.

"Yes, I am," Sandy replies.

"But, I don't understand," Luke says. "Ryan doesn't lie... or... well, if he does lie, he sucks at it."

"Luke, you were with Ryan yesterday, correct?" Ray Hicks asks, taking his notebook and pen out of his pocket. "You have classes together?"

"Yeah, we have three periods together," Luke answers. "History, P.E. and lunch."

"Did you notice anything different about him? His behavior?" Ray asks, jotting down the information. "How was he at lunch?"

"Quiet, but that's not unusual," Luke replies. "He did tell me that he was looking forward to the trial being over and that Stankey creep going to prison for what he did to that kid."

"Tyler," Ray says. He always makes sure a victim has a name so the person can be remembered.

"Yeah, Tyler," Luke acknowledges. "Ryan said that Tyler told him Stankey withheld his medication for depression, or something like that. I got the impression that Ryan was really kicking himself for not reporting that douchebag after the kid confided in him..."

"It seems clear something happened to Ryan yesterday," Sandy says. "One minute he's intent on putting Stankey behind bars and the next..."

"The boy is changing his testimony, claiming Tyler never confided in him," Ray says, completing Sandy's point.

Sandy runs his hand over his face and shakes his head. "Luke, do you have any idea how Ryan got his injuries?"

"You mean the cuts on his arms and knee?" Luke asks, wanting to clarify.

"Did Ryan get injured during soccer practice?" Kirsten asks.

"Well, we collided during a practice drill which is why Coach Plitz excused Ryan from practice until the trial is over," Luke explains. "But we play on grass. Ryan didn't get hurt during practice. He told me he tripped in the parking lot."

"What happened in the parking lot?" Ray asks.

"I don't know," Luke replies earnestly while shrugging his shoulders. "I got to my truck and saw Ryan... he was pale, a little shaky... looked like he was gonna be sick."

"What else?" Ray prods as he diligently jots down all the information.

"I noticed his arms were really scraped up and his knee was bleeding," Luke explains. "I asked him what happened and he said he tripped over the curb."

"And you didn't believe him?" Ray asks.

"Seriously? The guy's the most athletic person I know. Tripping over the curb?"

"It could happen," Ray states.

"I suppose, but when I pressed the matter, he got really defensive," Luke says. "He practically bit my head off. Told me to drop it. So, I did."

"Do you recall around what time it was?" Ray asks.

"Um... probably quarter-to-five... ish," Luke replies.

"Did you notice anything? Was there anyone else around?"

"The parking lot was almost empty," Luke says. "It was nice out yesterday. Most kids cut out early and went down to the pier to hang out."

"What about teachers?"

"The faculty parking lot is on the other side of the school. They park in the west lot, students park in the east lot."

Ray lets out a sigh. He needs more information but seems to keep hitting a brick wall.

"There was one thing, though," Luke says. "But it's probably not important."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that," Ray says.

"When I left the building and stepped outside, I heard a car peeling away," Luke explains. "I figured it was some kids driving fast out of the parking lot, you know, since it was so empty."

"Interesting," Ray says, writing down the information. "Anything else?"

"Mmmm... sorry, I really can't think of anything," Luke says, slightly discouraged. He was hoping he could help. He really wanted to help.

"You've been a big help," Ray says.

"I have?"

"Yes, you've given me information that I can act on."

"I have?" Luke reiterates, hoping he doesn't sound like a broken record.

"Yes, I now know what I need to do next," Ray states. "Where I need to go."

"Wherever you're going, I'm coming with," Sandy states.

"Very well, Mr. Cohen," Ray says as he opens the front door and begins to make his way back to his squad car. "We're going to Corona Del Mar high school to view their security footage. Something happened to Ryan yesterday. Something occurred after school and the boy is scared."

"He's too scared to talk?" Sandy asks as he follows the sheriff to his car.

Ray Hicks stops and looks directly at Sandy. "That boy is so scared that he felt he had to lie today in court. He's so scared that he's willing to set a man free, a man who abused him, and go back to juvie."

Sandy gets into the squad car and shuts the passenger-side door.

"Then we need to get to Corona Del Mar," Sandy states as the sheriff starts up the car. "We need to find out why Ryan had to lie in court."

_I need to find out why the boy is so scared..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**A very special "thank you" to Ally R. Swan, Matthewsbj, Linneagb and Guest for the positive feedback. I really appreciate it! :-)**

Chapter Seven

Ryan opens his eyes and blinks a few times. He frantically looks around the room then sighs, realizing where he is.

_I'm in jail..._

He had fallen asleep. Something that had been eluding him for weeks. But he feels anything but rested. All he can think about is the trial. Seeing the confusion on the prosecutor's face when he answered "no" to his pivotal question. Hearing the stir of commotion from the onlookers when they sensed the trial shift in favor of the defendant. Feeling disgusted with himself for lying, but feeling utterly helpless at the same time.

_How else could I have kept them safe?_

Ryan places his index finger on the cement brick wall. He stares at his finger as he moves it methodically along the indentation between the bricks; slowly gliding it back and forth until it all becomes a blur. He blinks away his tears.

_I'm so sorry, Sandy..._

"You alright, kid?"

Ryan immediately pulls his hand off the wall and sits up straight. He sees a man in uniform, standing outside his cell.

"I'm fine," Ryan replies by habit even though he feels nothing close to being "fine".

"I'm Tom, Sheriff Hicks deputy," Tom says, noting the boy seems slightly confused after taking a short nap. He's not surprised. He's seen it before. "I want to let you know that your Public Defender will be here shortly to meet with you."

"There's no need," Ryan says, his voice tinged with despondency.

"Well you can talk to him about that," Tom says. "But, in the mean time, is there anything I can get for you?"

Ryan looks at the deputy and musters up whatever he thinks will pass for an appreciative smile.

"I'm fine."

"Very well. When your lawyer arrives, I'll come back and get you," Tom states, shaking his head slightly while taking his leave. He can't believe the boy sitting in the jail cell is the son of Dawn Atwood, recalling when the woman was arrested and the sheriff placed him on duty to take over the next shift. Ray Hicks told him to help himself to the bottle of aspirin in the desk drawer. Tom gave in after a mere five minutes. The woman's incessant complaining coupled with her shrill voice gave him a headache he would never forget.

Ryan watches the deputy leave then lays back down on the hard cot.

_What in the world can a lawyer do for me, _Ryan thinks to himself. _I just want this over and done with. Then everyone will be able to get on with their lives..._

* * *

"What can I do for you, Sheriff?" the security guard asks.

"I need to see the school security footage from yesterday between 4 and 5pm," Ray replies as he and Sandy enter a small office with multiple computer screens showing up-to-the-minute footage of the school grounds. "I need the footage of the student parking lot as well as the front and east entrances of the school."

"I can do that," the security guard says as he brings up video on a set of computer screens sitting idle on a desk. "But we don't have footage of the student parking lot. Just the entrance."

"Really? Why not?" Sandy asks, somewhat confused. He knows Harbor has security cameras over every inch of the school.

"Budget," the guard replies. "But the cameras take in a wide angle. Hopefully it will be helpful."

Ray and Sandy study the computer screens. After ten minutes of viewing, Sandy notices something suspicious.

"Look... the front entrance," Sandy says, pointing at the screen. "Someone's entering the building."

"Maybe a student forgot a book from his locker?" Ray suggests.

"He doesn't look like a student," Sandy says, taking a closer look at the screen. "And it was really warm yesterday. This guy's wearing a sweatshirt with a hood."

"Possibly to hide his identity?" Ray ponders aloud. "Interesting..."

Sheriff Hicks takes out his notepad and pen and jots down the time stamp on the screen.

_4:10pm-man in hoodie, front entrance _

Ray and Sandy continue to study the video footage on the screens. After what feels to be an eternity, Sandy again points at the footage of the front entrance.

"There! There he is again," Sandy states. "The guy's leaving, his hands are jammed into his pockets and his head is down."

"There's no way we'll be able to make out a face," Ray says, peering in closer. "Is there anyway you can zoom in?"

"This is it," the security guard replies. "We just don't have the fancy software. If I zoom in, the picture will just become a blurry, pixelated mess."

Ray sighs in disappointment, although he's not surprised. The FBI crime lab would have the software, but not a public school security firm. He makes another note.

_4:28pm-man leaving_

Another few minutes pass by as all the men study the monitors.

"There's Ryan," Sandy says pointing at a lower screen. "At the east entrance."

"That goes out to the student parking lot," the security guard says. "What exactly are you folks looking for?"

"I wish we knew," Ray says. "We're just trying to track this boy's activities during this time frame. We think something may have happened to him."

"Is he missing?" the guard asks with concern.

"No, but something happened," Ray replies as he makes another note.

_4:35pm-R. east entrance_

"He doesn't look injured," Sandy says. "I can tell his pants aren't torn. Luke said his knee was bloody."

"I haven't seen any cars leaving the student lot in awhile," Ray states. "Wish we could see Luke's truck."

"There's a van pulling in," Sandy says, pointing at the screen showing the entrance to the student parking lot. "Looks black or maybe dark blue with side doors."

"Maybe a student returning for something he forgot?" Ray asks, posing the question but knowing it sounds implausible.

"I've lived in Newport Beach for far too many years," Sandy says. "And never have I ever seen a kid drive an old black van."

"Mr. Cohen, if you one day decide to give up practicing law, please apply at my office for a job. I swear you're more observant than my deputies," Ray says with a smile as he jots down the information.

_4:37pm-black van _

"It's Sandy. Please, call me Sandy."

"Very well, Sandy," Ray says, acknowledging the camaraderie and budding friendship.

"There it is again!" Sandy says pointing at the screen showing the student parking lot. "The same van."

"That's strange," Ray says, scratching his chin. "Why would the van be circling around the parking lot. It's virtually empty. There's plenty of places to park."

Sandy nods in agreement as he and the sheriff again peer closely at the screens, both men searching for anything that could explain Ryan's behavior in court this morning. After a few more minutes, Sandy again points at the screen. "There! That's the third time the van has passed by."

"The boy is in that van," Ray states solemnly, realizing now what most likely happened.

"What? What are you saying?" Sandy asks with grave concern.

"Ryan is in that van."

"How do you know?" Sandy asks. "We can't even see Ryan."

"Think about it for a moment," Ray says. "We know Ryan went to Luke's truck. This van has been circling the parking lot, very slowly I might add."

"But, that's kidnapping," Sandy says.

"And Ryan's a minor and if they had a gun..."

"That's aggravated kidnapping," Sandy states as he swallows back a sick uneasiness rising within him. "Something was bothering him last evening," Sandy says, recalling how quiet and withdrawn Ryan behaved. He and Kirsten thought he was just nervous about the upcoming trial. "I even talked to him later that night. I tried to allay his fears. I never thought..."

"No one could ever have foreseen something like this happening," Ray interrupts, hoping to console the distraught father. "Please don't beat yourself up over something you had no control. We need to keep our focus on Ryan and what could have happened to him yesterday."

"Who could have done this?" Sandy asks.

"I'm thinking some of Stankey's lackeys," Ray replies.

"But how could they have known Ryan would be there in the parking lot?"

"This was planned," Ray states. "They've probably been watching the boy for days or even weeks. Figuring out his schedule. Making note of his routine."

"But Kirsten usually picks Ryan up from soccer practice," Sandy says. "Luke driving Ryan home was last minute."

"They were most likely parked out on the street," Ray explains, making a note to himself to have his department look at the street footage. He knows there are cameras posted at every intersection. "All one needs is a good pair of binoculars. They saw the boy exit to the student parking lot and were able to quickly adapt their plan."

Sandy runs his hand through his hair and sighs. To think someone would threaten a kid and possibly even harm him makes him sick to his stomach. He goes back to looking at the computer screens, making a note to himself to look into a fundraising effort to enhance the public school's surveillance system.

"Look! The van is leaving!" Sandy says, pointing at the screen.

"And in a hurry, it appears," Ray adds. "And I'll be... there's Luke leaving the school."

"That must have been the noise he heard," Sandy says. "Luke said he heard a car peeling out of the parking lot."

"Can you pause this?" Ray asks the guard. "I need a copy of the image of this van."

"No problem," the security guard says. "Is there anything else you need?"

"I need a copy of all the footage we've just seen," Ray says as he makes one last notation in his notepad.

_4:48pm - L. hears van leave_

"Comin' right up," the guard says as he prints off the picture and records the data onto a disk.

"Thank you for all your help," Ray says as he takes all the evidence from the security guard.

"It's been a pleasure," the guard says. "I hope the boy you're trying to help will be okay."

"Believe me, we're not going to rest until he is," Ray states as he and Sandy take their leave.

"What's our next step?" Sandy asks as he walks with the sheriff back to the car.

"Now we need to have a heart to heart chat with Ryan," Ray replies. "And I hope and pray the boy will be able to shed some light on our mysterious black van."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:** Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**This chapter is basically the turning point in my story with Sandy and Ryan reuniting. There will be a light at the end of the tunnel for Ryan. I promise!  
**

**A heartfelt "thank you" to matthewsbj, Ally R. Swan and the guest reviewers for the positive feedback. I really appreciate it! It helps me keep writing. :-)**

Chapter 8

Sandy paces back and forth. He feels agitated. He wants to see Ryan. He needs to be with Ryan.

"Sheriff, I have to be in the room with him," Sandy states emphatically.

"I know you do," Ray replies. "But I need to keep that boy's trust. It was just this morning he told me he didn't want to see you."

"I know, but it's not what he really wants," Sandy says. "I know Ryan. He's scared. He's hiding..."

"Exactly. He's hiding something, or from someone, and he's scared," Ray states in agreement. "Let me have a few minutes with him. I want Ryan to acknowledge that he does, in fact, need you to be with him. If that happens, I know the boy will open up."

Sandy runs his hand through his hair and sighs. "You're right. I do understand the need for trust. It's been a struggle to get Ryan to trust me and Kirsten. What that kid has been through with his father and his mother, and his mother's unending string of horrific boyfriends..."

"Believe me, I've seen my share of abused kids. Some lash out, some retreat, some do both. It's a coping mechanism," Ray says, sharing empathy with the distraught father. "But I truly believe Ryan trusts you. The boy just has to realize this. He needs to understand that it's okay to accept help. He doesn't have to shoulder this burden alone."

"I know that Ryan has slipped back into his self-preservation mode," Sandy says, recalling all the times the boy would just shut down. He would have nothing more to talk about. He remained quiet. He was done. It's a typical behavior in a kid who's been abused, either physically or emotionally. In Ryan's case, it was both.

"This trial... prepping for it," Sandy continues, recalling all the hours spent with the State Prosecutor, Mike Nolan, going through Ryan's testimony over and over and over... "The boy is exhausted. And if he was indeed threatened to change his testimony? I think he might be just giving up." Sandy feels tears well up in his eyes as he tries to shake off the uneasy feeling of dread rising inside him. "I'm afraid Ryan is giving himself up."

Ray places his hand upon Sandy's shoulder and looks the man square in his eyes. "But we're not going to let the boy give up, are we."

Sandy looks at the sheriff intently and firmly replies, "No, we are not."

"All right, this glass is one-way," Ray says, pointing to the window separating the hall from the interrogation room. "You'll be able to see Ryan but he won't be able to see you."

Sandy steps forward and places his hand upon the window. As he gazes longingly through the glass he observes Ryan sitting at a table next to his PD, George O'Reilly. The boy's head is lowered. He looks withdrawn... despondent.

_Please Ryan, talk to the sheriff. You can trust him..._

"What can you tell me about Mr. O'Reilly?" Ray asks before entering the small interrogation room. "I don't recall ever dealing with him before."

Sandy peers through the window and watches his colleague peruse through some papers, trying to look busy... or even interested. The once severely overweight man is now thin, almost too thin, thanks to a wife who changed his diet to low-fat, low-sugar and high fiber after her husband's heart attack. George calls it torture. But he was able to celebrate his milestone birthday of fifty years with his family and friends. To Sandy, that alone would seem worth it.

Sandy removes his hand from the glass window and looks at Ray Hicks, his dark blue eyes serious and focused. "George will do the bare minimum. He will do all he has to do and nothing more," Sandy states somberly. "I'm looking into hiring a private defense attorney for Ryan. A friend of mine from college."

"Well I'm hoping that Ryan won't need any legal counsel if what I'm thinking happened to him actually happened."

"You mean, because he may have been coerced into changing his testimony," Sandy says.

"Exactly. If there's one thing a judge hates more than someone lying on the stand, it's witness tampering," Ray states as he begins to make his way into the interrogation room. "But it will all depend on what Ryan is willing to tell us."

Ray Hicks enters the small room and makes his way over to Ryan and the Public Defender.

"Sheriff," George O'Reilly says, nodding to the exceptionally tall man as he enters the room. "What is so urgent? I need to prep my client for the plea hearing tomorrow."

"You might want to see about getting that postponed," Ray states as he sits down at the table across from Ryan.

"Postponed? I don't understand..."

Ray removes the 8 by 10 print-out of the black van and places it on the table directly in front of Ryan.

"Ryan, do you know anything about this van?" Ray asks gently while tapping his finger on the picture. The last thing he wants is to put the boy on the defensive, but he also knows he may have no choice.

Ray watches as the color drains from Ryan's cheeks. He observes the boy immediately make himself inaccessible; crossing his arms firmly against his chest and turning his head away.

"Sheriff, I demand to know what this is about," George O'Reilly states firmly.

Ray ignores the under paid, over-worked lawyer and keeps his eyes focused on Ryan.

"Ryan, this van was captured on security footage slowly circling the student parking lot," Ray says. "And according to my timeline, you were seen exiting the school right before the van pulled in. But the security camera only has footage of the parking lot entrance. You were supposed to wait for Luke by his truck, is this correct?"

Ray waits a few moments for a reply, but gets nothing.

"I don't see what this van has to do with my client," the Public Defender says, his patience running thin.

Ray turns to the agitated lawyer and looks him square in the eyes. "Mr. O'Reilly, I'm on your side. I'm trying to help your client."

"Really? You're on my side? My client has signed a written confession," George says, completely exasperated. "I have to figure out how to keep this kid's sentence down to two years in juvie."

"Well, while you do that, I'll work on getting the perjury charge dropped," Ray says, annoyed with the lawyer. Sandy was right. The man isn't interested in the truth. He's only interested in getting a case off his desk so he can go on to the next one.

"Ryan, this van," Ray again puts forth in the softest tone of voice he can muster up. "It would explain a lot, yes?"

The sheriff lets out a frustrating sigh as the boy continues to remain silent. He's come to a dead end. He knows it's time to play the "Sandy" card.

"Ryan, I truly feel that Sandy needs to be here with you."

Ray detects a slight flinch of the boy's right shoulder. He may have hit a nerve.

"Sandy is your legal guardian," Ray continues. "Why don't we have him come in..."

"Sandy is home," Ryan states, his head still lowered as he refuses to make eye contact with the sheriff.

"No, Sandy is here," Ray says. "He's in the hallway..."

"He's here?" Ryan asks slightly panicked, his head darting up to look at the sheriff. "You told me he went home. He's supposed to be home."

"Sandy has been helping me..."

"He's supposed to be home with Kirsten and Seth," Ryan states, feeling angry that he's been lied to.

"Ryan, Sandy is here to help you..."

"No! He has to be home..."

"I don't understand, Ryan," Ray says calmly, sensing the boy's mounting agitation. "Kirsten and Seth can take care of themselves..."

"No, you don't understand," Ryan says as he lowers is head again and folds his arms even tighter against his chest.

"Then please, help me understand."

Ray observes the distraught boy as he pulls back even more; trying to make whatever is distressing him to miraculously go away. He knows he's pushing Ryan to the edge of a cliff. And the boy is looking down, watching warily as the ocean's icy waves crash violently against the rocky crags below. If he loses his footing, he'll fall to his death. But Ray wants Ryan to know that if he does lose his footing, an arm will reach out... a hand will grasp onto his hand and he will be pulled up to safety. That arm... that hand... belongs to Sandy Cohen.

"Ryan... please..."

Ryan pulls his arms as tight as he can against his chest. But this situation will not go away. None of this will ever go away.

"You don't understand..."

"Ryan, you are not alone here," Ray says. "You need to start trusting the people who care about you."

A heavy silence fills the small room. The sheriff doesn't know if he's ever dealt with someone so willing to remain quiet. But he keeps his focus on the boy. He knows he will eventually open up. He has to.

"Ryan, you can trust me. And you can trust Sandy..."

"Okay," Ryan whispers. He's tired and he knows the sheriff is right. He trusts Sandy. He even trusts the sheriff. But his Public Defender? He's not too sure about. "I don't think I can do this anymore."

Ray watches as the boy struggles with something weighing heavy on his mind. He knows Sandy can see the same thing. He needs to get the man into this room.

"But..."

"But what?" the sheriff asks.

Ryan raises his head and looks intently at Ray Hicks. "You have to promise me you'll keep them safe."

Ray looks at Ryan, slightly confused. Keep who safe. He has no idea. But he has no choice to agree. "I promise. I will keep them safe. You have my word."

Ryan nods his head to the sheriff. Now they have an understanding.

Ray raises his arm and signals to Sandy to enter the room. The door opens and Sandy appears, his face concerned yet hopeful. He quickly makes his way over to Ryan and sits down next to the boy.

"I'm sorry, Sandy," Ryan whispers. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's alright," Sandy says while gently placing his hand on Ryan's forearm. "We're here to help you. We know something happened and you were forced to change your testimony..."

"I lied in court..."

"Yes, you did," the sheriff interjects. "But if you were coerced, if you were threatened in any way, that's witness tampering. You will not face perjury charges if you will just talk to us."

"Please, Ryan," Sandy says softly. "Tell us what happened in the parking lot yesterday."

Ryan looks up at his lawyer, then to Sheriff Hicks and finally... to Sandy. He sighs deeply then makes the effort to recount the events from just twenty-four hours ago.

"I was standing next to Luke's truck," Ryan says quietly, almost in a whisper. All three men lean in towards the boy to make sure they hear every word. "The van pulled up... it happened so fast."

Sandy keeps his hand upon Ryan's forearm, then places his other hand gently upon the boy's back. "It's alright, no one can hurt you. Take a deep breath and tell us what happened."

"They g...g...grabbed me," Ryan says, his voice wavering as he recalls the horrific minutes when he thought he was going to die. Those few minutes seemed to last for hours.

"Did you get a good look at them?" the sheriff asks. "Could you identify the men if you saw them in a line up?"

"No... I didn't see them," Ryan replies. "They p... put a hood over my head. I'm sorry. I didn't see them..."

"It's alright, Ryan," Sandy says, reassuring the boy. "Can you tell us what happened next?"

Ryan closes his eyes. He shakes his head against the horrific memory. All he wants is for it to go away. Then he feels the hand gently caressing his forearm. He takes in a deep breath and concentrates on the other hand placed upon his back, offering him comfort and support.

_Sandy is here. He didn't leave me..._

"You didn't leave me," Ryan whispers.

"I will never leave you," Sandy whispers back. "I am here for you, no matter what."

Ryan looks at Sandy. He knows the man is telling the truth. After all he's put the Cohen's through, if Sandy didn't care he wouldn't be helping the sheriff. He'd be home right now with Kirsten and Seth...

_Kirsten and Seth..._

"He had a g...g...gun," Ryan stutters. "P... p... pressed up against m... my head."

Sandy blinks away the tears welling up in his eyes. He wishes he could take all of Ryan's pain away. To think the boy was kidnapped and assaulted and was too afraid to tell anyone.

"Ryan, you're safe now," Sheriff Hicks states. "No one can hurt you..."

"No, not me," Ryan says. "They didn't say they would h... h... hurt me..."

Sandy looks at the sheriff. Ray returns the look, both men realizing what must have happened. Ryan isn't protecting himself, he's protecting someone else.

"Ryan, you asked me earlier to 'keep them safe'," Ray states, taking care to keep his voice soft and steady. "Who were you talking about? Who do I need to keep safe?"

Ryan glances up at the sheriff, then to Sandy. He lowers his head and quietly replies, "Kirsten and Seth... and my brother..."

"The men threatened to hurt them if you didn't change your testimony?" Ray asks, wanting to clarify.

"Yes."

"Ryan, why didn't you tell me? You should have told me," Sandy says, willing the boy to make eye contact.

"I know but... I just couldn't," Ryan says softly as he raises his head and looks at Sandy. "If I did what they said then no one was going to get hurt."

"But what about you?" Sandy asks. "You've been hurt. Ryan. They held a gun on you."

"I'm fine..."

"No you are not. You are not fine. You were kidnapped, threatened and assaulted," Sandy states as the tears well up in his eyes. "You've been traumatized. Going to prison is not going to keep anyone safe, especially you."

Ray Hicks watches the exchange, intrigued by what he's hearing. He's used to dealing with people more than willing to throw their grandmother under a bus if it meant saving their own hide. But not this kid. He just keeps trying to save everyone at his own expense, as if he doesn't even matter.

"Ryan, do you trust me?" Sandy asks.

Ryan looks directly at Sandy and replies, "Yes."

"Do you trust Sheriff Hicks?" Sandy doesn't bother including George O'Reilly. It takes more than a half-hour legal session to earn this kid's trust.

Ryan glances over at the sheriff and again replies, "Yes."

"Then let us help you."

Ryan nods his head. He feels the weight of the world has just been lifted off him. The anxiety that was ripping through him just a few hours ago is now subsiding. He can breathe again.

"I'll station some plainclothes officers at your house. Your wife and son will not be able to leave nor will they be able to receive guests," Ray tells Sandy. "It's just temporary... just until we can get to the bottom of this and nail Stankey."

"What about my brother?" Ryan asks.

"I'll have your brother removed from the general prison population..."

"You mean solitary?" Ryan asks anxiously, becoming worried.

"Your brother will be moved to a private cell. It won't be solitary confinement but he will have to have his meals in his cell," Ray explains. "I'm sorry, Ryan. It's the only way to keep Trey safe. I'll make sure he knows it's not punishment. It's just temporary."

"Trey has been working towards getting his GED," Ryan states quietly, lowering his head again. "I guess he'll have plenty of time to study now."

Sandy gently caresses Ryan's back while he offers the boy an encouraging smile. "Everything's going to be alright. I promise..."

"There is one more thing..."

All three men look at Ryan, their interest piqued.

"There are pictures... I think someone put them in my book bag when I was taking a shower in the locker room yesterday."

"The man we saw entering the school with the hoodie," Sandy says to the sheriff. "It was probably him."

"I was thinking the exact same thing," Ray says. "Ryan, did you look at the pictures?"

Ryan looks at the three men sitting at the table and replies, "Yes, they were pictures of Kirsten and Seth and..." Ryan lets out a heavy sigh then continues, "A knife. Someone holding a knife."

"Do you still have these pictures?" Ray inquires. He hopes the boy didn't discard or destroy them. This could be the evidence they've been looking for.

"I put them in my dresser drawer," Ryan says. "They're in a manilla envelope, beneath my pants."

"Alright, I need to get my hands on those pictures," Ray states, standing up from the table. "Ryan, thank you. You've been very helpful. I know this hasn't been easy for you but I promise you I will do everything in my power to see justice done. For you as well as for Tyler."

Ryan nods his head to the sheriff, appreciating everything the man is doing for him.

"George, I believe you have a little work to do before this day is over. Let's see, what to do first," Sandy ponders to his colleague as he rests his chin upon his fist and places his index finger across his lips. "Oh, I know. You can file a motion to get Ryan's confession thrown out. Change his plea to 'not guilty' and arrange for bail. Do you think you can handle all that?" Sandy doesn't try to hide his sarcasm. He's done with being polite. "I'll post bail. It probably won't be excessively high. After all, Ryan is hardly a threat to society. Just let me know when the hearing is scheduled."

"I can't promise anything, Sandy," George states, a little miffed at his colleague giving him orders. "It's already three in the afternoon..."

"I don't care if you have to work all night and wake a judge up at two in the morning," Sandy states, glaring at the lawyer. "I want Ryan home with me by dinnertime tomorrow. No excuses."

Sandy turns his attention back to Ryan and places his hand upon the boy's shoulder. "I want you to hang in there. Can you do that for me?"

Ryan nods his head 'yes'. It's the least he can do for the man who refuses to give up on him.

"Alright, I need to go with Sheriff Hicks," Sandy says, giving one more gentle squeeze to the boy's shoulder before standing up.

"The deputy will bring you back to your cell," Ray tells Ryan. "And your lawyer can get busy filing those motions."

Ryan musters up as much of a smile as he can under the circumstances. He watches Sandy and the sheriff leave, then allows himself to be handcuffed and led back to his cell.

Ryan sits back down on the uncomfortable cot that is being passed for a "bed". He sighs as he lays down and wraps his arms around himself. Staring up at the drab ceiling, Ryan blinks away an errant tear.

_Thank you, Sandy, _Ryan thinks to himself. _I don't know what I would do without you...  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N**: Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**A heartfelt "thank you" to matthewsbj, Linneagb and the guest reviewers for reviewing. I really appreciate the positive feedback and support. :-)**

Chapter 9

"Sandy, oh my God what happened?" Kirsten asks frantically when she sees her husband step into the living room. "There are police officers here. They told me Seth and I have to stay home..."

"Everything's going to be okay, honey," Sandy reassures as he wraps his arms around his distraught wife. "I saw Ryan."

"You saw Ryan?" Kirsten asks, abruptly pulling away from her husband's embrace. "Is he alright? Can he come home? I need him to come home, Sandy. I need him home now!"

"I know you do," Sandy says as he pulls his wife back in to give her a comforting hug. "Ryan was coerced into lying in court this morning. Sheriff Hicks and I need to look for something in Ryan's bedroom."

"What are you looking for?" Kirsten asks with concern.

"I can't tell you. Not right now," Sandy replies. "But it may be just the thing to help get the perjury charges dropped."

"Dad? What's going on?" Seth asks, walking warily into the living room. "Why do Mom and me have to stay inside? They said I can't even go to school tomorrow, which I'm not complaining about, but now I'll have a ton of make up work to do..."

"Son, come with me," Sandy says calmly as he places his arm around Seth's shoulders and steers him into the kitchen.

"What is it, Dad?"

"I need you to look after your Mom," Sandy instructs. "Can you do that for me?"

"Sure, Dad."

"And please, just do whatever the officers tell you to do," Sandy continues. "I really need you to step up to the plate on this one. It's important."

"You can count on me, Dad," Seth assures.

"Thank you," Sandy says as he begins to walk away and rejoin Sheriff Hicks.

"Say, Dad?"

Sandy turns around and looks at Seth, his son's eyes wide with concern.

"Is Ryan going to be coming home soon?"

"I hope so, Seth," Sandy replies earnestly. "But mark my word, I'm not going to stop until Ryan is home with us, safe and sound."

* * *

_"It's okay, baby..."_

_Ryan feels a hand placed upon his forehead, then senses fingers threading through the strands of his dark blond hair._

_"Everything's gonna be okay..."_

_"Mom?"_

_"That's right, baby. Your mama's here..."_

_Ryan struggles with his feelings. Something seems wrong..._

_"I'm right here, baby..."_

_"Mom, is it really you?"_

_"Yeah, baby... it's really me..."_

_Ryan suddenly begins to feel uncomfortable as his mother runs her icy cold hand over his face._

_"But... but you're in prison..."_

_"And so are you, baby. You're in prison just like me, your stupid pathetic brother and that good-for-nothin' father..."_

_"No..." Ryan feels the fingers become rough and bony with razor sharp nails. They trace down to his neck. His heart is beating rapidly... the anxiety mounts as he waits for the pain..._

_"Sorry, baby... you're an Atwood. And Atwood's belong in prison..."_

_"No, Sandy is helping me."_

_Ryan senses a sharp fingernails gouge into his neck... or is it a knife..._

_"Oh baby, wake up and face reality. Sandy Cohen doesn't give a fuckin' shit about you. And neither does that picture-perfect, Orange County bitch of a wife of his."_

_Ryan sees the shiv. _

_"You're goin' to prison, baby..."_

_The sharp edge of the blade flickers in the light. _

_"You're an Atwood..." _

_The knife is held up against his neck. Ryan feels the blade pierce his skin. There's a blackness... a void. The hood placed over his head begins to constrict. He tries to breathe in oxygen but there is none. He feels a gun pressed against his head. He tries to breathe again, but he can't. He can't get any air. He's suffocating..._

Ryan gasps and opens his eyes as he bolts up into a sitting position. His heart is beating rapidly. Perspiration drips from his forehead. He wipes the dampness away then plants his face into the palm of his hands. How he hates prison cells. He has no perception of time. Has he been asleep for an hour? Or is it the next day. All he knows is he's exhausted. He wants to sleep. But his dreams can be more disturbing than his reality.

_I don't want any more nightmares..._

Ryan lays back down on the cot and lets out a plaintive sigh. All he can do is wait and hope he doesn't fall asleep again.

_You're wrong, Mom, _Ryan thinks to himself. _Sandy does care. And so does Kirsten. They care about me. They do._

Ryan wipes an errant tear from his eye and sighs out loud, "If only you cared about me."

_I wish you cared about me..._

Ryan turns over on his side and gazes at the bars of his cell. He blinks away his tears and finishes his thought...

_As much as I've cared about you..._

* * *

"Ryan's bedroom is the first door on the right," Sandy tells the sheriff as they walk down the hallway.

Ray Hicks stops outside Ryan's bedroom, then turns to Sandy. "I'll need you to not touch anything when we're in the room," the sheriff instructs. "I understand your fingerprints are probably all over this room, but it's protocol."

"Understood," Sandy says, tucking his hands in his pants pockets as both he and the sheriff enter Ryan's bedroom.

Sandy stands in the center of the bedroom and watches as Sheriff Hicks dons a pair of latex gloves. Ray carefully opens the top drawer of the dresser. He sees underwear and undershirts neatly folded. He closes the drawer, then opens the second. He notes an array of socks neatly folded and some assorted athletic wear; jock straps, sweat bands, wrist bands...

"Ryan is organized," Ray tells Sandy as he opens the third drawer.

"Yes, he is," Sandy acknowledges. "He's quite the opposite of Seth."

"Bingo," Ray says as he removes a 4 by 6 manilla envelope from underneath a pair of pants.

Sandy walks over to the sheriff and peers down at the envelope.

"Let's see what we have here," Ray says as he carefully removes the photos.

"That's Seth and Ryan down at the pier. The boys often go there to grab a bite to eat." Sandy looks at Sheriff Hicks and adds, "I think the boys just like to go down to the pier and girl watch."

"A totally acceptable pastime for sixteen-year-old boys," Ray says, tucking the picture away to look at the second one.

Sandy gets a sick feeling in his stomach as he looks at the next picture. "Oh no, that's Kirsten," Sandy says, somewhat alarmed. "She's in the parking lot at work... at the Newport Group."

"She's getting into her vehicle. Someone knows her routine," Ray states as he takes a look at the third picture. "This is interesting."

"It's a knife," Sandy says, peering down at the photo.

"Not just a knife. It's a shiv," Ray states.

"It's a picture of an inmate holding a shiv?" Sandy asks in disbelief. "How in the world could someone take of picture of that? Cameras aren't allowed..."

"Oh, you'd be surprised the stuff that gets smuggled in," Ray says. "I suppose it would have been too much to ask to be able to see who is holding the knife."

"Well, it's definitely an inmate," Sandy says. "You can see the edge of the orange sleeve of his jumpsuit."

"Maybe we'll get lucky and find a fingerprint on these pictures, although I won't hold my breath," Ray states, disappointed the photos didn't offer more to go on.

"Wait a minute. What's that?" Sandy asks, pointing at the picture of the knife.

"What do you see?" Ray inquires.

"There seems to be something on the inmate's wrist. The sleeve is covering most of it but it looks like a point or end of a triangle."

Ray takes his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and puts them on. He looks closely at the picture, then smiles. "That is part of a tattoo."

"Okay, but we can't see the whole thing," Sandy says.

Ray removes his reading glasses and turns to Sandy. "Whenever someone is arrested, they go through booking. Even for lesser crimes it can be a very invasive procedure. Fingerprinting, mug shots and, of course, the dreaded strip search if warranted."

"Believe me, I know," Sandy says, having heard all sorts of horror stories from past clients.

"But also, during the procedure, every identifying mark is noted and logged into the system," Ray continues. "We're talking unusual birthmarks, scars and everyone's favorite..."

"Tattoos," Sandy says, finishing the sheriff's sentence.

"The information comes in very handy when interviewing witnesses and victims of crime," Ray says. "They remember scars and tattoos much more readily than hair and eye color."

"So what's our next move?" Sandy asks.

"Well, I'm going to go back to the station and start looking into the database for wrist tattoos, specifically for inmates serving time at the Chino Men's Correctional where Trey is," Ray says. "You should stay here with your family."

"All right," Sandy says. "But you'll call me if you find out anything..."

"Of course, I'll call you immediately," Ray states as he holds his hand out to shake Sandy's hand. "You've been an enormous help and I thank you."

Sandy shakes the sheriff's hand. "I just want Stankey in prison and Ryan back home here. That kid's been through enough."

Ray nods his head in agreement and offers an encouraging smile. "Ryan will not go down for this. Not on my watch. I will get proof the boy was coerced into lying."

"Thank you," Sandy states.

"I'll see myself out," Ray says as he takes his leave. "Hang in there and stay strong. Ryan needs you."

Sandy watches as the sheriff leaves then immediately sits down on the bed. He feels exhausted and emotionally spent. He takes in a deep breath, but it doesn't help. He realizes he's never felt this way before.

"Sweetheart, are you alright?"

Sandy looks up and sees his wife standing in the doorway.

"The sheriff left. Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes... and no," Sandy replies.

"Sandy, talk to me," Kirsten says as she sits down on the bed next to her husband.

Sandy runs his hand over his beleaguered face. He quickly wipes away some errant tears and sighs. "I sat right here. Last night after dinner," Sandy says quietly. "I sat here with Ryan. I knew something was wrong but I..."

"But you what?"

"I just thought he was nervous about the trial. I didn't..."

"We both thought Ryan was just nervous, on edge about the trial..."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Tell you what?" Kirsten asks.

Sandy looks over at his wife and takes her hands into his. "Ryan was abducted, held at gunpoint..."

Kirsten gasps as she clenches her husband's hands.

"The men who did this... they not only threatened Ryan, they threatened you, Seth and Trey. Ryan felt he had no choice..."

"So he lied in court," Kirsten says, lowering her head. "Oh my god, that poor boy. Why didn't he say something?"

"Because he felt he couldn't. And I keep asking myself why."

Kirsten leans her head upon Sandy's shoulder and clutches her husband's hands.

"I know we haven't known him for very long," Sandy says.

"It's been almost four months," Kirsten states in a whisper, recalling when she first met Ryan. She, herself, had trust issues. But that is now a thing of the past. All she wants is to give the boy a stable, loving home. And she knows she and Sandy can give him that... and more.

"Ryan knows we would never hurt him. I would never hit him... or beat him," Sandy says with a hint of pain in his voice. His mind suddenly becomes flooded with everything he's read in the boy's file. The abuse by his father, his mother, his mother's boyfriends... "My god, we would never throw him out to the curb if he came home a few minutes after curfew..."

"Ryan knows these things," Kirsten says as she leans even closer into her husband. "But I'm not sure if he believes it."

Sandy wraps his arm around his wife and sighs. "You're right. Ryan knows we would never hurt him. He's safe here. He can talk to us. He can trust us..."

_He just needs to believe it..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters of The OC. They all belong to Josh Schwartz.

**A/N:**Sequel to "A Bitter Pill": Bob Stankey, head of the group home Ryan stayed at for six months, is ready to stand trial for second-degree murder due to depraved indifference in the death of a teenage boy in his care. Ryan is set to take the stand and testify against Stankey, facing the man who abused him.

This story takes place three months after "A Bitter Pill" ends. Ryan and Luke are friends and attending the public school while Seth is attending Harbor. I'm taking some "liberties" with the time and understand that it would be more like a year or longer for any trial to begin. But, I didn't want to fast forward an entire year so, in this story, the legal justice system works at lightning speed. :-)

**I know that the Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility in Chino closed ten years ago (I think), but I believe it was still in operation when this show aired. **

**This chapter brings closure to the crimes that were committed against Ryan. Next chapter will be Ryan/Cohen-centric. :-)**

**Thank you for all the feedback and support. I really appreciate it! :-)**

**Chapter Ten**

Sandy groans as he gingerly lifts himself out of bed. He didn't sleep at all, or when he did sleep, he had dreams. Exhausting dreams. Visions of Ryan in prison and Bob Stankey... a monster taunting the boy. Hurting the boy...

Sandy runs his hand over his face and sighs. He knows he has to keep his wits about him. He has to stay strong and alert.

Sandy dons his robe and pushes his feet into his plush, blue slippers. He slowly drags his feet down the hall to the kitchen, unable to stifle his yawn. Sandy enters the kitchen to find his wife and son both looking as tired and bewildered as he.

"Morning," Sandy greets, leaving out the word "good". He doesn't feel comfortable uttering the sentiment.

"I made you some coffee," Kirsten offers, not trying to hide the melancholy in her voice as she takes a coffee mug out of the cabinet.

"Thanks," Sandy says as he pours himself a cup of the hot brew. Sandy glances over at his son, sitting at the breakfast bar with slumped shoulders, mindlessly poking his spoon into his cereal bowl.

He wants to offer encouraging words, but he's exhausted. He hates not being in control of a case. Specifically, Ryan's case. But he knows he made the right decision to recluse himself from being the boy's lawyer. He feels too emotionally involved and he knows, from experience, emotions can cloud a person's judgement. Sandy just hopes and prays Sheriff Hicks will come through for them. For Ryan.

Sandy's cell phone rings. Immediately everyone perks up with anticipation. Sandy rushes over to answer his phone, praying it's Sheriff Hicks with good news.

"Hello?" Sandy answers.

_"Sandy, Ray Hicks here."_

"Sheriff Hicks," Sandy says, looking up at his wife and son and offering a hopeful smile. "Do you have any news? Please tell me you have something."

_"The perjury charge against Ryan has been dropped."_

"What? That's great!" Sandy exclaims.

"What's great?" both Seth and Kirsten ask in unison.

"The perjury charge has been dropped," Sandy tells his wife and son. Sandy immediately returns his attention to his call with Sheriff Hicks. "What happened? How did the charge get dropped?"

_"It's been a very long night, but definitely worth it."_

Sandy takes a sip of his coffee, eager to hear more.

_"After I left your place yesterday afternoon, I came back to the station. Did a little digging on our wrist tattoo. Turns out that tattoo belongs to an inmate at the California Institution for Men in Chino."_

"That's where Trey is doing time," Sandy says with slight concern.

_"I can't divulge his name since this is an ongoing investigation, but he was more than willing to cooperate."_

"What did he say?" Sandy asks.

_"He's a twenty-year-old doing two years on a drug charge. Guess his sixteen-year-old brother was with him when the deal went south. Kid's doing a year in juvie."_

"Go on..."

_"Tattoo Man has nothing against Trey, but claims he was coerced."_

"By whom?"

_"The person who took the picture of him holding the shiv happens to also be a guard at the Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility."_

"A guard?" Sandy questions in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair. But it shouldn't surprise him. He's heard his share of stories of the corruption and abuse at the Chino youth facility.

_"Tattoo Man was trying to keep his younger brother safe. He had instructions to injure Trey if Ryan implicated Stankey in court and told the truth. If he didn't cooperate, his brother was going to have a very rough time of it in juvie."_

"So this guard..."

_"Had a nice long chat with him last evening. He's our man in the hoodie entering the school. He admitted to placing the photos in Ryan's book bog. He also fessed up to being the driver of the van."_

"Did he say anything else?" Sandy asks.

_"He told us Stankey secured a job as a guard at the Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility."_

"Where Ryan would have most likely ended up..."

_"Exactly. Stankey's not dumb. He knew no judge would throw a sixteen-year-old into an adult prison for a nonviolent crime."_

"My god, he would have had two years with Ryan..."

_"Stankey would have had complete control over Ryan. Most likely would have made that boy's life a living hell."_

"Did the guard implicate Stankey?" Sandy asks.

_"He said Stankey hired a couple of thugs to 'rough' Ryan up."_

"The two men who snatched Ryan in the parking lot..."

_"We had to cut a deal with the guard, Sandy."_

"I understand," Sandy says, knowing exactly how the system works. "Please tell me you nailed those two thugs."

_"Brought them in late last night. And boy, did they sing."_

Sandy smiles. He knows how cops love it when their perps turn against one another. Makes their job so much easier.

_"They said Stankey hired them to scare Ryan... rough him up. We're looking for the paper trail. Stankey left one. It's just a matter of time..."_

"This is all good but I know, from being a lawyer, you can't present a case with just finger pointing," Sandy says as he runs his hand over his face and sighs. "Do you have any real evidence?"

_"Glad you brought that up. Do you remember looking at the footage of the black van from the school's security?"_

"Yes, but most of the footage was blurry."

_"Not for my crime lab techs. They were able to trace the van for a few blocks using the traffic cameras at the intersections."_

"And what did they find?" Sandy asks as he starts to pace around the kitchen with nervous energy.

_"They zeroed in on the license plate. It was lifted off an old stolen SUV collecting dust in the impound lot."_

"Switched license plates doesn't give us much..."

_"Oh, there's more. We found something very interesting in the right hand corner of the windshield."_

Sandy smiles. He knows he's going to like whatever he hears next.

_"A sticker. More specifically, a sticker showing the van belongs to the Herman G. Stark Youth Correctional Facility."_

"This is good... this is very good," Sandy says, his face now glowing with new found hope and encouragement.

_"The van is used for deliveries, but it gets even better."_

"I am all ears," Sandy states, unable to stop smiling. This day started off dreary but has now taken a most welcome turn.

_"The back of the van is carpeted."_

"Carpeted," Sandy repeats, not all that impressed.

_"Forensic scientists love their DNA evidence. But they also love their carpet."_

"Go on..."

_"Carpet fibers. A mix of chemicals and debris. Ryan was either kneeling or sitting in the back of that van. Carpet fibers would have most likely been transferred and embedded into his clothing. Which brings me to the second reason I called. Please tell me no one has done laundry since Monday. More specifically, Ryan's laundry."_

"Ryan insists on doing his own laundry," Sandy says. "He also helps with the dishes after dinner and cleans his bedroom." Sandy glances over at his son, wanting him to acknowledge the concept of "responsibility".

"Hey, I clean my bedroom," Seth pipes in.

"Your bedroom is full of clutter," Kirsten admonishes.

"Yeah, but it's clean clutter," Seth states in defense. "I have very clean clutter."

"Knowing Ryan, the boy didn't discard his clothing," Sandy tells the sheriff. "He either put it in the hamper or back in his dresser."

_"A crime scene investigator is on his way to your place. He'll want access to Ryan's bedroom and bathroom."_

"Understood."

_"Now, I've got a date with Bob Stankey."_

"Do not go easy on him," Sandy orders.

_"The State Prosecutor has a deal laid out. The last thing he wants is to put Ryan through another trial. Stankey will do time, Sandy. I promise you that."_

"Thank you, Sheriff Hicks," Sandy says. "Now I need to get myself showered and dressed, gather up some clean clothes for Ryan, and make my way to the courthouse jail. I'm going to bring Ryan home."

_"Amen to that. I'll keep in touch."_

Sandy ends his call and immediately turns to his wife and son. "Ryan's coming home!"

Kirsten rushes over to her husband and gives him a heartfelt hug. "Bring him home, Sandy," Kirsten says.

"I will," Sandy states. "Ryan will be home by dinnertime."

* * *

Ray Hicks peers through the one-way glass into the interrogation room. He sees Bob Stankey and his lawyer huddled close together, most likely whispering about what approach to take. He knows exactly what the lawyer is telling him to do.

_"Stay quiet... don't say a word. You let me do the talking."_

Ray smiles. He knows Stankey isn't dumb, but he is arrogant. And that arrogance will be his undoing.

"Thank you for waiting," Ray says, feigning actual gratitude as he steps into the small room and closes the door. One of the first things a cop learns about interrogating suspects is to never be on time. Make them wait. Let them stew for a bit and get a little impatient. Let them know who's in charge.

"Sheriff Hicks, what exactly are you charging my client with?" the defense attorney asks.

Ray looks at the woman with her glaring eyes and pursed lips as he turns on the recording device situated in the center of the table. He's not shaken in the least.

"Witness tampering, aggravated kidnapping..."

"Aggravated what?" Stankey shouts out in disbelief.

"Kidnapping," Ray states calmly, happy he's already getting under the man's skin. "Aggravated kidnapping because Ryan feared for his life. The thugs you hired had a gun, correct? Not good. Assaulting and making terroristic threats against a minor..."

"I never hired any thugs," Stankey scoffs while he folds his bulky arms across his chest.

"Bob, let me do the talking," the attorney instructs her client. "Sheriff, do you have any proof? Any actual evidence? If not, I think we're done here."

"Everyone seems to be pointing their fingers at you, Mr. Stankey," Ray says, ignoring the lawyer. "You're a really popular guy."

Ray notices the man's sudden display of discomfort. He smiles then immediately becomes serious again. "The consensus seems to be that you're the one who instigated all of this. In other words, even though you may not have physically held the gun to Ryan's head and personally threatened him, you're just as guilty as your hired goons."

"Screw them!" Stankey shouts, pounding his fist on the table. "You can't charge me with nothing! I wasn't even in that fuckin' van!"

"Van? What van?" Ray asks, mustering up as much innocence as he can. "I never mentioned any van."

The defense attorney groans. If only her client would have listened to her and kept his mouth shut. She knows now they'll have to make a deal.

"How in the world would you know that those thugs were in a van when they abducted Ryan," Ray says. "You must be downright clairvoyant."

Bob Stankey sneers and curses under his breath. He immediately turns to his attorney for guidance but notices her demeanor has quickly changed.

"What's the deal," the defense attorney asks.

"Ten years for witness tampering," Ray states emphatically. "Let's slap on another twenty for aggravated kidnapping."

"Ten years," the defense attorney states, her voice jittery and weak. She knows her offer will never be accepted.

"Just so you're both aware of this, if you go to trial, the State Prosecutor will ask for twenty-five to life," Ray states. "Mike Nolan is very firm on his deal."

"Fifteen," the defense attorney counters warily.

"Thirty," Ray counters.

"Twenty," the defense attorney again offers.

"Wait just a fuckin' minute!" Stankey angrily yells. "I ain't doin' time!"

"I'm afraid you are, sir," Ray says, feigning politeness. "We'll settle for twenty-five. It's our final offer. Mr. Stankey will be out to see the sun at the ripe young age of seventy something..."

"This is an outrage!" Stankey yells, interrupting the smug sheriff. He now feels utter hatred and disdain for the man.

"And, of course, there is still the the second-degree murder charge due to depraved indifference..."

"That charge was dismissed," Stankey snarls at the sheriff.

"Dismissed, yes. But not tried. There is no double jeopardy," Ray instructs. "You were not tried and found guilty or innocent of that crime. You will pay the price for the death of Tyler Jansen."

"Do something, damn it!" Stankey yells to his lawyer. "That's what I'm paying you for!"

"If you had kept your mouth shut as I had asked, we wouldn't be in this situation," the defense attorney replies. "If this goes to trial, we will not win."

Bob Stankey snarls and lets out a disdainful huff. He hates losing. And he finds himself truly hating this sheriff.

Ray watches as Stankey leans into his defense attorney, listening to what she's whispering in his ear. Most likely _"take the deal."_

"Twenty-five," the defense attorney sighs.

"Deal," Ray states as he stands up, turns off the tape recorder and picks up the incriminating evidence. "Oh, and before I forget, Mr. Stankey, I just want to let you know that the perjury charge against Ryan has been dropped."

Bob Stankey sneers again, not liking how things have ended up.

"The boy will be back home tonight, surrounded by people who love and care about him," Ray says, enjoying every minute of making Bob Stankey an envious, snarling mess. "I can picture it now," Ray says, running his hand through the air to depict a pleasant scenario. "Ryan sitting by the pool after partaking in a delicious home-cooked meal... not a care in the world... knowing you'll be locked up, rotting away in a prison cell all because you're just one vicious, corrupt, amoral asshole."

"That kid will someday end up in prison," Stankey snarls. "He's a delinquent. Only good for one thing. And that's fighting. When he gets to prison, I'll be waiting for him."

"Well, don't hold your breath," Ray says as he begins to take his leave. "Ryan's a good kid."

"Good, my ass..."

"Ryan's smart and has his whole future ahead of him," Ray tells the defeated man as he begins to make his way out of the interrogation room. Ray Hicks turns around in the threshold of the doorway and looks Bob Stankey straight in the eye. "That kid is going to go places. I know it. And, you know it. Have a nice day."

Ray stands in the quiet hallway, takes in a deep breath and feels an overwhelming sense of relief. Another case solved and all because a teenage boy found the courage to face his abuser and tormentor in a court of law. He also had the help of a man who is not only a lawyer, but a father. For that, Ray will always be grateful.

Ray Hicks remembers when he first met Ryan Atwood. The boy was lying in a hospital bed, battered and bruised from being beaten and left for dead when the Newport Group's model house burned down. So many people were affected. So many lives were changed.

_But Ryan is safe now, _Ray thinks to himself as he makes his way back to his office. There is paperwork to complete. Phone calls to make. And, he needs to call Sandy Cohen...

"Mr. Cohen," Ray replies when Sandy answers his phone.

_"Sheriff Hicks, I'm just on my way out to pick up Ryan. Did you nail Stankey? Please tell me he's going to go to prison."_

"He accepted Mike Nolan's offer. Stankey will be serving twenty-five years at the California Institution for Men in Chino. He'll be in maximum security so he will not have access to Trey."

_"Thank god. Is this nightmare truly over?"_

"Yes it is. Ryan is safe now and you're bringing him home where he belongs," Ray says with confidence. "You and your family is safe now."


End file.
